When You're Around
by Allison Lindsay
Summary: Adrian wants to be more than just Sharona's friend. But he fears that his feelings for her constitute a betrayal of his vows to Trudy. Will Monk and Sharona ever make it to, or through, the first date?
1. Chapter 1

Title: "When You're Around"  
Author: Allison Lindsay  
Disclaimer (applicable to this and all subsequent chapters): _Monk_ belongs to a bunch of people, none of whom is me.

**CHAPTER ONE**

Adrian Monk sat in his burnt orange armchair reading. Or, rather, he resembled a person reading. He had been staring at page forty-seven of his mystery novel for the past half-hour, his brain unable to absorb any of the words printed on the parchment. Instead, Monk was fixated on Sharona, who was out for the evening.

This was the fourth date this month, and it was a different guy each time. Sharona went through men like water. It drove Adrian berserk. Didn't she ever get sick of all those losers?

Sighing, Monk closed his book and set it down on the coffee table. He then retrieved one of his many dusters and went to work ridding his bookshelves of non-existent dust particles.

Every few minutes, the detective would glance over at the clock and grumble, "Shouldn't it be over by now? How slowly can two people eat?"

He pictured Sharona on her date. The man had probably brought her to some fancy restaurant, thinking he could win her over with expensive food. He'd tell her how great she looked, and she'd swoon, so flattered by his compliment. And for the entire duration of the date, Sharona would give the lucky loser her undivided attention, as though he was the most fascinating person she had ever met.

Adrian scoffed. _Fascinating. Yeah, sure. Since when did lying, cheating scumbags become so fascinating?  
_  
After awhile, Monk returned to his chair and picked up his book again, opening to the page where he had left off. He read a few lines, but he simply could not concentrate. His thoughts kept coming back to Sharona.

Somehow, over the past year, Adrian had steadily manifested feelings for his assistant. Romantic feelings that seemed to grow stronger each time another man came into her life. Initially, he had dismissed his emotions, convincing himself that it was wrong to view Sharona as anything more than a friend.

But Monk soon realized the futility of resisting his feelings. He had no control over the way he felt about Sharona. He couldn'teradicate or reverse his emotions, let alone his growing . . . desire for her, no matter how much effort he made.

Adrian simply had to accept the fact that he had fallen in love with another woman.

And eventually, after much hemming and hawing, he did accept it.

For the last few months, the detective had been painstakingly contemplating whether or not he should tell Sharona how he felt.

_It's not the right time.  
She'll laugh in my face.  
She'll never be able to look me in the eye again.  
There's no way in the world that she feels the same way.  
How could someone normal like her ever love someone crazy like me?  
And what about Trudy? What will she think? Will she be angry? Hurt? Devastated?_

All of these thoughts had been constantly whirling around in Monk's brain, making him dizzy.  
Two months ago, however, Adrian resolved his issues regarding Trudy's perception of his feelings for his assistant. He knew that if he were going to come clean to Sharona, then he had to come clean to Trudy first. Monk still could not believe that the words _I'm in love with Sharona_ had escaped from his throat. Saying it aloud seemed to . . . make it official.

What the detective found even more incredulous, though, was the fact that he was truly in love with someone other than his late wife. After Trudy died, Adrian was absolutely certain that he would never feel for another person what he felt for her. But for once in a blue moon, he had turned out to be wrong.

Remembering that day at her gravesite, Monk knew that Trudy wasn't angry or hurt or devastated. Instead, she was happy for him. Happy that he had found someone to partially fill the enormous gap in his heart.

Adrian realized that he was smiling. Thinking of the two loves of his life had put his mind at ease, at least for the moment.

He sighed heavily. "I'll tell Sharona tonight," the detective declared.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Approximately twenty minutes from Adrian's apartment, Sharona Fleming sat in a small, elegant restaurant, staring blankly at the man across from her.

The man in question was a late thirty-something publisher that she had met at the grocery store the other day. She remained in the dark about what exactly it was that he published, but from the looks of him, she preferred to remain that way.

When she had approached their table fifteen minutes ago, the nurse predicted that this evening would be nothing short of horrendous. Her date donned a royal blue blazer, a white collared shirt with some sort of blue splatter paint design on it, and a royal blue tie. God. She hadn't even looked under the table to see if he were wearing the matching dress pants, though she would have bet her life on it. And she certainly didn't want to think about what kind of shoes this guy had chosen. To top it all off, he had put so much gel in his hair that it was practically dripping off the ends.  
_  
Why did I agree to go out with him?_ she wondered. _Oh, yeah_. When Sharona had first met the man, he had on a gray business suit and had used only a quarter of a bottle of hair gel.

Talk about a one hundred and eighty degree turn.

Sharona tried to make it her policy not to judge a man by what he wore, but her last date with someone with such awful taste in clothes had been a total disaster. The man proved to be an egotistical nutcase who had done nothing but talk about himself the entire night. So, naturally, she assumed that this man would be just like his predecessor. And she was right. _They must be related_, she decided.

The blonde groaned in annoyance as her date began yet another sentence with "I". _I this, I that_. She considered flinging her butter knife at him. Not that she wanted to murder the man or anything. If that were her intention, she'd have already requested a steak knife from the waiter. But perhaps the shock of having an eating utensil hurled in his direction might shut him up for a minute or two.

Sharona sighed. She had better tune this guy out before she lost it. As she watched motormouth's lips flap, she started to wonder if she should just get up and go.

But that would be impolite. After all, the man was only bragging about himself to try and impress her. She should be flattered.

But she wasn't.

_I could pull an Adrian and tell him that I think I left the stove on_, she pondered. _Then again, I **am** getting a free meal . . . I guess I'll just stick it out. But as soon as he pays the check, I am out of here.  
_  
And with her consistent lack of sufficient funds, Sharona could use all the free meals she could get.

As she continued ruminating over the dilemma, she began to trace the rim of her water glass with her index finger, hoping that this activity would provide at least _some _distraction.

Every few seconds, Sharona would nod and smile, giving the illusion that she was paying attention to the irritating creature in front of her.

Her thoughts drifted to Benjy. She was so proud of him. His math grades had been improving, and she couldn't be more thrilled. She had practically squeezed the life out of him when he had showed her the B- he'd earned on his last test.

Just then, the bells above the restaurant door jingled, bringing Sharona back to the present. As she watched the elderly couple step inside, she couldn't help but wish that it were Adrian who had walked through that door.

Facing forward, the nurse smiled to herself. Sharona remembered the time that Adrian had interrupted one of her dates awhile back. She and whatshisname . . . _Kyle? No . . . Carl? Was it Carl? . . . Yeah, it was. It was Carl._ Not that it mattered, anyhow. She never heard from him again after that night.

Sharona recalled how upset she had been when her boss came over to their table and sat down. And she had been mortified when he blew the whistle on Carl for lying to her. How could he embarrass the man like that!

But as angry as she had been then, Sharona would have had the exact opposite reaction had Adrian intruded tonight.

Glancing at the door one last time, the blonde heaved a heavy sigh. She began praying that their meals would be ready soon. _For God's sake, how long does it take to make a chicken Caesar salad!_

The ringing of her cell phone jolted Sharona out of her thoughts. "Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed as she fumbled for her purse, nearly knocking it off the table. As she rummaged through its contents, it suddenly occurred to the blonde that it might not be Adrian on the other end of the line. There was the possibility that something had happened to her son.

"Uh, excuse me," she told her date, putting the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Sharona, I-"

Upon hearing the timid voice on the opposite end, the woman exhaled in relief. "Oh, my God! Adrian, I am so glad that you c-" Sharona stopped abruptly and raised her eyes to the man seated across from her. She sounded a little too excited about having their one-sided conversation interrupted, she realized. And as nauseating as her date was, Sharona didn't want to hurt the guy's feelings. Clearing her throat, she expelled the elation from her voice and adopted a more serious tone. "Adrian? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here. What's wrong?"

"Sharona, I, um, well, I-I . . . See, um, uh . . ." her boss stammered, upset with himself for not rehearsing what to say prior to calling.

His assistant grew concerned. "Adrian, are you okay?"

"Well, um . . . I . . . I, uh . . . There's this . . . uh . . . There's this mouse . . . in my house . . . There's a mouse in my house. And, uh . . . i-it's staring at me, and . . . giving me a-a _look_. You know, like a . . . a look. And . . . I-I need you, Sharona. Now. Please. Please, hurry. I-"

"Adrian, I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? I 'm leaving right now." So saying, the blonde hung up, replaced the phone in her purse, and rose to her feet.

"I have to go!" she ecstatically informed her date, no longer interested in the complimentary dinner.

The man regarded her with a bewildered expression. "Uh, now?"

His fleeing companion nodded eagerly. "_Right_ now!" Sharona confirmed, pulling her jacket from the back of her chair.

"Why?"

"Oh. Well, my friend's in a little bit of trouble. Some mouse is giving him dirty looks, and he needs me to get rid of it. No big deal," she explained with a casual shrug.

The repulsive creature snorted. The nurse cringed.

"Your friend's afraid of a little mouse? Well, I see the job of _loser_ is no longer available!" he guffawed, laughing hysterically.

His departing date shot him a look. "You know, you're right. _You've_ already filled that position!" she retorted.

With that, Sharona turned sharply on her heel and quickly walked to the door, making a long-awaited exit from egotistical freak number two.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Adrian was in the midst of cleaning the kitchen cabinets - for the second time that day - when he heard a knock at the door. Setting down his sponge and spray bottle, he rushed to answer it.

"Hey, Adrian!" his assistant greeted him cheerfully, wriggling out of her jacket as she made her way inside. Before he could respond, Sharona had already begun to survey the apartment. "Okay, so, where did you last see it?" she wanted to know.

Her boss shifted uncomfortably. "Um, i-it's . . . uh . . ."

A worried expression came over Sharona's face. Adrian didn't look so good. His face was kind of pale. "Um, Adrian," she began softly, laying a hand on his shoulder, "It's just a little mouse. I-It shouldn't be that traumatizing."

A pair of petrified eyes met her gaze. Now that she was right here, right in front of him, he didn't know if he would be able to go through with it.

"Adrian, I think you need to sit down," the nurse suggested kindly, applying a gentle pressure to his shoulder. "Um, I'll go and look for it, okay? You just stay right here."

"Sharona, I . . ."

"What is it, Adrian?" his assistant asked, moving to sit beside him.

Slowly, he turned to face her. "Sharona, um, there's something that I need to tell you. Um, well, f-first of all, uh . . . There is no . . . mouse . . . in my house. Um, I-I used it . . . I used it as an excuse to get you to come over here." He paused, waiting for his friend's reaction.

An emotionless "oh" was her only response.

"Are you mad?"

Silence.

But then, a moment later, the blonde burst out laughing. "I can't believe I fell for that! You're a terrible liar!" she cried, smacking him playfully on the arm. "I didn't doubt you for even a second, Adrian! Well, yeah, I was so excited about getting out of there, but still . . . I actually thought you were telling the truth!"

Monk blushed. Despite the fact that she wasn't angry with him, he still felt guilty for deceiving her.

"Why are you so embarrassed, Adrian?" the nurse wondered, still giggling. "_I _should be the one who's embarrassed!"

"Well, I've never lied to you before, Sharona."

"You made up some stupid story about a little mouse. I wouldn't really consider that lying."

Her boss managed a small smile. "I-If you say so."

"I do say so. Now, do you want to hear about my disastrous evening?"

"It was that bad?"

Sharona groaned. "Oh, 'bad' is not the word for it!" she exclaimed. "That was the date from hell. I mean, the entire time, all he did was talk about himself. It was horrible! I still can't believe I survived for as long as I did. I am telling you, hearing your voice was the best part of the entire date. I am _so_ grateful that you called. You have no idea!" She laughed again, and Adrian's smile widened. He loved Sharona's laugh.

The detective wanted to say it right then. The words _I'm in love with you, Sharona_ were on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason, he could not cajole them out of his mouth. Adrian felt frustrated. He had promised himself that he would tell her tonight, and he had broken that promise.

Sharona's laughter soon faded, and she let out a sigh. "You know, when you-when you really think about it, i-it's not all that funny. I mean, what is it about me that attracts loser after loser after loser? They-They just . . . _flock_ to me! It's so pathetic. You'd think I'd give up already." She shook her head sadly. "Heh. Guess I'm a loser, too."

"You're _not_ a loser, Sharona," Adrian said firmly.

"Then what the heck is wrong with me?" the blonde demanded in a shaky voice. Tears of frustration had begun to well up in her cerulean eyes.

"Sharona, it's not you, okay? If those guys can't see how wonderful you are, then-then it's their loss, not yours. Don't beat yourself up over this. You'll find the right guy. I'm sure he's . . . not very far away."

This elicited a faint smile from Sharona. "Thanks. But I just . . . I just can't remember the last time I dated someone at least _halfway_ decent."

Adrian nodded sympathetically. "You know, I'd really like to do something to make this up to you. A-And not just to make up for this night, but for all those other nights, too."

"What do you mean?" his companion wondered, sniffling.

"Well, I'm really sorry that you have such bad luck with your dates. So, I want to do something to try and make you feel better."

The smile broadened a bit. "Oh, that's sweet, Adrian, but I'll get over it. Don't worry," she assured him, plucking a tissue from the box on the coffee table and gently dabbing at her eyes.

"But I _want_ to do something for you, Sharona. Please?"

"Um, o-okay, Adrian, if you insist."

"I do insist. H-How about if we do something tomorrow? Something . . . special?" he proposed, the last word barely audible.

"What'd you have in mind?"

"Well, uh . . . What's the one thing in life that you've always wanted to do, but never had the opportunity?"

"You mean, besides meet better men?" she joked, the sadness beginning to disappear from her voice.

The detective couldn't help but laugh. "Yes, Sharona. Besides that."

"I don't know, Adrian," she said, shrugging. Then something occurred to her. "Oh, you know what? I can't tomorrow anyway. Benjy and I already have plans."  
Monk failed to conceal his disappointment. "Oh? What kind of plans?" he queried, hands fidgeting.

"We're having a picnic lunch in the park. You can come with us, if you want," the nurse offered. "I'm sure Benjy wouldn't mind."

The detective's face drooped. "A p-picnic? Where we sit on the . . . ground, and we eat on the . . . ground?"

His assistant giggled. "There _are_ such things as picnic tables, Adrian. We don't _have_ to eat on the ground."

This fact offered little comfort, however, for her boss was already picturing a commercial he had seen a few weeks ago. In it, a parade of ants marches across a picnic table, climbing over watermelon slices and sandwiches and serving utensils and . . . Monk shuddered. "C-Could I have some time to think about it?"

"Yeah, sure. Call me in the morning, okay? I've gotta go. I promised Benjy's babysitter I'd be back by ten."

"Okay," Adrian replied, nodding in concordance. He was somewhat discouraged, however, because he realized that he would now have to wait until tomorrow to make the confession.

On her way out, Sharona stopped just short of the door. "Hey, Adrian, um, I just wanted to say that . . . well, that this evening wasn't a _total_ disaster. Thanks for being there for me."

Just as she pulled the door closed, the dark-haired detective whispered, "You're welcome, Sharona."

A contented smile etched in his features, Monk walked to the kitchen to put away the cleaning supplies.

_I'm really looking forward to our picnic tomorrow_.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own the song lyrics quoted in this chapter.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

At nine thirty the next morning, Benjamin Fleming knocked on the bathroom door. "Mom!" he called over the sound of running water. "Phone!"

Sharona turned the faucet off and emerged, toothbrush in hand.

"It's Mr. Monk," the boy informed her, passing her the phone.

"Thanks."

With a nod of his head, Benjy retreated into the kitchen.

"Hey, Adrian. So, what did you-"

The man on the other end of the line did not let her finish. "What time do you want to meet at the park?"

"I don't know. Eleven thirty? Twelve? I-" The blonde stopped abruptly, narrowing her eyes. "Wait a minute. Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"

"What do you think I'm telling you?" Monk asked, his soft chuckle filtering through the receiver.

"That you actually _want_ to do this picnic thing."

"Yeah, that-that's what I'm telling you."

A brief moment of silence succeeded his reply.

"Um, Sharona? Are you there?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just, um, just needed a little time for it to sink in."

Another chortle. "Let's make it twelve, okay? I'll meet you in the park, by the tree."

"Which tree, Adrian? The park is full of 'em."

"Oh. Right."

"Listen, why don't I just pick you up?" the nurse suggested. "I'll get everything ready, and then Benjy and I will swing by your place and get you. Okay?"

"Okay. So, um, what should I bring?"

"Well, why don't you take care of the tablecloth and the plates and stuff? I'll take care of all the edibles. I'll make sandwiches, potato salad, fruit salad - cliché picnic stuff. How's that sound?"

"That's fine. But don't-don't forget: no tomatoes in the sandwiches. I'm-"

"Allergic," Sharona completed the sentence. "I know. See you at twelve, all right? Be ready."

"I will. I'm . . . I'm looking forward to it," the detective added quietly, then quickly hung up before she could respond.

"I- Hello? Adrian? . . . Heh. Guess he didn't want to waste any time getting ready." Replacing the phone in the living room, Sharona returned to the bathroom to resume her teeth-cleaning ritual.

When she finished, the nurse found her son sitting at the kitchen table, engrossed in a comic book. She walked over and stood beside him, gazing down at the soggy contents of his cereal bowl. "How long have you had that cereal, Benjy?" the mother interrogated, eyebrows raised.

"A while . . ." the boy responded, glancing up.

Sharona shot him a Look, although she wasn't really mad. "Well, hurry up and finish it, will ya? You've only got about two more hours." she chaffed, flipping his comic book shut.

"What did Mr. Monk want?" Benjy inquired.

"To come with us."

Benjy's eyes widened. "Mr. Monk wants to go on a picnic?"

"Yep. I was pretty surprised myself." Sharona ruffled the preteen's feathery brown hair. "Now, come on. Eat up!"

Her son looked at the milk-soaked flakes and made a disgusted face. Rolling her eyes, the nurse reached into the basket of fruit across from him and extracted a banana. "Here," she said, placing the yellow object into his hand. "Take this into your room . . . And eat it! Quickly!"

Benjy laughed and got up from the table. "Okay, okay," he muttered as he headed into his bedroom.

After cleaning up his mess, Sharona went to work on the fruit salad. While she removed various items from the fridge, a song popped into her head, and she began to hum.

Soon, without even being aware of it, she was singing - quite loudly, in fact. Sharona was so absorbed in her crooning that she failed to notice when her son returned to the kitchen.

"'Keep smiling, keep shining, knowing you can always count on me, for sure. That's what friends are for . . .'"

"Mom?"

"'In good times and bad times, I'll be on your side forevermore . . .'"

"Mom!" the boy tried again.

"'That's what friends are for . . .'" the blonde continued, bringing the chorus to a close. She was about to begin the third verse when a finger tapped her on the shoulder. "Ooh!" she cried, startled. Putting a hand over her heart, Sharona spun around to see her son grinning in amusement.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. You just-You just scared me, that's all," she told him, feeling slightly embarrassed. "What do you need, Benjy?"

"I just came to see if you needed help with anything."

"Oh, no, that's okay. I got it all under control. Thanks anyway."

Sharona watched him retreat, then turned back to the picnic food preparations. But instead of picking up the knife and slicing the cantaloupe in front of her, she just stared at the cutting board, lost in thought. Why she had been so engrossed in her singing? And, more importantly, why that particular song, a song about friendship? Did the song have any special meaning to her?

Further deliberation helped her to decide that, yes; it did have special meaning. It reminded Sharona of her friendship with Adrian. This realization brought a smile to the nurse's face.

_Hmm. Wonder if Adrian's ever heard that song_, she mused.

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"Hey, Benjy? Are you ready?"

"Yeah!" he answered, rejoining her in the kitchen. Having changed out of his pajamas, he was now wearing a T-shirt and shorts, just like his mother. "So, are you excited about the picnic, Mom?"

She nodded, a bright smile on her face. "Yeah, it should be fun."

"Mom, are you okay? Since when have you ever thought of Mr. Monk as fun?"

"You're right. I meant it should be chaotic. So, shall we go?"

"Wait. Don't we need bug spray?"

"Bug spray. Yes." Sharona left the room and a moment later returned with a can of insect repellent. "I doubt Mr. Monk will let me near him with this stuff, but I'll give it a shot."

"Yeah, if you get any on him, he'll probably say his clothes are 'irredeemable'."

"Oh, hey, thanks for reminding me. What would I do without you, kid?"

The boy shrugged. "Beats me," he replied, a smug smile on his face.

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When the two pulled up to Adrian's apartment building, they found the detective standing on the stoop, holding a large canvas bag in his hand.

He was clad in his customary attire - jacket, dress pants, shirt buttoned all the way up. Sharona could not understand how Monk wasn't suffocating; it must have been eighty degrees outside.

"Hi, Adrian," she greeted her friend as she stepped out of the station wagon. "All set?"

No answer. The man didn't even move.

Approaching her boss, the assistant studied him closely. He had much the same look on his face that he had the night before, pallid and worried. "Adrian, are you all right? I mean, if you're having second thoughts about this, I'll understand."

"No, no. I was just, um, just thinking about something," he told her, forcing a smile.

Sharona nodded. She was convinced that something was bothering him, but she didn't press the issue. Instead, she took the bag from him and headed back to her car. "Are you coming, Adrian?"

Mr. Monk hesitated a moment. Then, reaching into his jacket pocket, he removed his sunglasses and slipped them on, adjusting the optics until they were exactly where he wanted them.

_You know, as much as I hate to admit it, he looks pretty sexy_, Sharona decided, though she would never say such a thing out loud.

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The trio rode in silence for most of the way, until Adrian turned on the radio.

"Oh, my gosh!" Sharona gasped.

Immediately, her boss jerked his hand away. "What? What's wrong?"

"This song! I was just singing it this morning!"

"Sing it now!" urged the boy in the backseat.

"M-Maybe later."

"You sing, Sharona?" the passenger beside her queried, intrigued.

The blonde felt her cheeks reddening. "A-A little," she replied, shutting off the radio.

Benjy leaned forward. "She has a great voice, Mr. Monk."

Eager to hear this great voice that her son spoke of, Adrian turned the music back on. "This is one of my favorite songs. I want to hear you sing it."

"First of all, you're lying; you've never heard this song before. And second, I don't care what you want. I'm not singing." With that, she cut off the radio again.

A split second later, the song came back on. "Ahem. If you don't mind, I was listening to that."

Sharona stifled a giggle. "So, you really like this song, huh?"

"Yeah. It reminds me of . . . us. Of our-Of our friendship," Monk stated quietly.

His assistant's cheeks resumed their cherry-tomato tint, and it was a good ten minutes before she finally responded. "I was thinking the same thing."


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"Hey, Mom, is this table okay?"

"No, no," Mr. Monk answered for Sharona. "It's too close to the trash can."

Benjy shrugged and pointed to another table. "How about that one?"

"No. Absolutely not. Are you crazy? There's gum underneath the bench!"

"Adrian," Sharona cut in, trying her best to remain patient, "these coolers are heavy. If you can't find a table you like, then we'll sit on the ground."

"No!" her boss protested, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched for the perfect table. "Uh, uh, there! That one's fine. Let's-" Suddenly, a horrified look crept onto the detective's face.

"Adrian, what's wrong?" his assistant demanded, rushing to his side.

Lifting his foot a little ways off the ground, Adrian inspected his left shoe. It was covered with a squishy white substance. "I-I stepped in something! Ugh! Sharona, get it off! Get it off, Sharona! Hurry!"

"Okay, okay. Just stay calm. Hang on." Swiftly, she opened her purse and pulled a wipe from the package. Bending down, the nurse held her boss by the ankle and set about removing the disgusting goop from the sole of his footwear.

"What a freak!" someone hollered. Upon hearing this, Sharona whirled around to see a group of teenagers standing a few feet away. They were pointing and laughing hysterically at the distraught man wobbling on one foot. She glared at them. Normally, that was all the blonde did when someone was making fun of her friend, but this time, it would not suffice. "What the hell are you looking at! Mind your own goddamn business!" she shouted in his defense.

"Yeah, grow up!" added Benjy.

Still laughing, the teens continued on their way, shaking their heads and muttering more insults.

"Jerks. There. It's all gone."

"What-What _was_ that?" Adrian wanted to know.

"I think it was frosting," Sharona answered, leaving his side momentarily to toss the wipe into the trash. "You all right now?"

Monk nodded slowly. "I will be."

Placing an arm around his waist, his assistant guided him to their table and gently lowered the man onto the bench. She then took the canvas sack from him and began to unload its contents, all of which were contained in plastic bags.

"One for back-up?" she jibed, clutching a red-checkered tablecloth in each hand.

"Always."

Carefully, she spread one across the wooden surface, then returned the other to its former place. "Oh, you know what? We should probably put the bug spray on now. Come here, Benjy," Sharona instructed, seizing the metal can and moving several feet away. "You too, Adrian!"

"No, thanks. I'm fine."

Sharona frowned and crossed her arms. "Adrian, get over here!" the nurse ordered. The fervent shake of the detective's head, accompanied by further verbal protests, prompted an exasperated sigh from his female companion. "Adrian, just let me spray you once. Just once, okay?"

"What's for lunch?" the stubborn man inquired, deciding that a change of subject was the best way to go.

"Oh, forget it," Sharona grumbled with a roll of her eyes.

When the insect-proof pair came back, Mr. Monk greeted the two with a word Sharona was sick of hearing: "Wipe."

"For what? That stuff didn't even touch you."

"Not for me. For you. And Benjy. So two wipes, then. One for . . . each of you."

With another aggravated sigh, his assistant reached for her purse and yanked out two moist towelettes, handing one to her son. "Happy?"

"Never. Um, well, not-not yet."

Sharona arched an eyebrow but quickly dismissed the comment. Turning her attention to the coolers in front of her, she unlatched them and removed the various food items she had packed. While she took care of that, Benjy set the table with the plates and the eating utensils.

When Adrian attempted to rearrange the silverware, Sharona grabbed his clothed arm, her fingers pinching the immaculately ironed fabric. "Leave it."

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All throughout lunch, Monk remained mute. He had tried to participate in the conversation, but his mind refused to focus on anything but the woman on the other side of the table.

Adrian was glad that he had agreed to go on this picnic. Only one mishap so far and no ants appeared to be heading their way.

The detective was so absorbed in his thoughts that he did not even notice the fly that made a brief rest stop on his shoulder.

He did, however, take heed of the drop of mayonnaise that had taken up residence on Sharona's lower lip. Instead of calling it to her attention, Monk extended his hand and brought his index finger to her mouth. Just as he reached her bottom lip, the blonde turned her head towards, causing Adrian's finger to slide partially into the orifice. A long time ago, this would have sent him into a panic. At present, however, he didn't bat an eye, not even when her tongue accidentally brushed against his skin.

"You-You have some, uh, something on your lip," Monk told her, slowly wiping away the mayonnaise before removing his finger.

Sharona's brows drew together in bafflement. ". . . Thanks, Adrian . . ."

"No problem," the man replied, picking up his plastic fork.

"Don't you need a wipe?"

"Uh, I-I'll use a napkin," her boss responded. Adrian reached for one slowly - almost reluctantly, in Sharon's opinion. "Where's Benjy?"

"You just now realized that he's gone? What kind of detective are you?" the nurse quipped. "He's been gone for, like, fifteen minutes." She gestured beyond Adrian's shoulder. "He's playing Frisbee with those kids over there. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"No, you're not. Come on. What's wrong? You might as well tell me. You know I'm not gonna let this thing go until you do."

Standing abruptly, Adrian brought his plate to the trash. He dropped it in, then started walking away from the table.

"Adrian, where are you going?" Sharona called after him.

It did not surprise her that she received no answer.

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"Wanna swing?" Sharona suggested. Her boss sat on a bench in the playground area, eyes transfixed on the rusted metal of the swing set.

"No, but you go ahead."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure."

"Oh, come on, Adrian!" the blond persisted. "It's fun!"

The detective turned to her. She was smiling at him. "Fun and I are not on speaking terms. We haven't been for quite some time."

Sharona giggled. "That's actually pretty funny. But it's not getting you out of this. You're at least gonna push me," she informed him, rising to her feet and tugging on his arm.

"Bug spray."

"You want me to put some on you?"

"No. No. I mean, on your clothes. There's bug spray on your clothes. I would have to . . . touch it."

Sharona's eyes hurled daggers at Monk.

"Forget it," the grump relented. "I'll just use a wipe afterwards." Stepping behind her, he brought his hands to her back and pushed lightly.

"A little harder, Adrian, okay?"

_She noticed how I hesitated to wipe my hand at lunch,_ Monk recalled. _But it was nice, touching her. Not very romantic, given the circumstances, but nice nonetheless. And her lips are so soft. Maybe I'll get the chance to touch them again. Maybe even . . . kiss them. I wonder if I could actually do it.  
_

"All right, that's good, Adrian. You can ease up now."

_I could kiss her spontaneously. No warning, just walk up to her and press my lips against hers. But I'd be doing it against her will, so it wouldn't mean very much. I have to tell her how I feel first. That way, when - well, **if** - we kiss, it'll be special. I should tell her tonight, after dinner. But** how** should I tell her?_

"Adrian! You're pushing too hard!"

_Maybe I'll start off with something like: Sharona, we've known each other for a long time, haven't we? No, that's no good. Can't you come up with something a little more original, Monk?_ The detective chastised his uninspired idea.

"Adrian! That's enough!"

The shouting continued to fall on deaf ears. _Maybe I should just blurt it out. Then I won't lose my nerve. Well, I'm sure I'll lose it anyway. God! Why am I so pessimistic?_

"Adrian, stop! I said: That's enough! What is you problem, Adri-aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

Adrian remained locked in his mind until the harsh jangling of the swing's chains brought him back to reality. He leapt out of the way just in time to avoid the seat hitting him in the gut.

Hearing her scream, Benjy hurried over to see what had happened. "Mom, are you all right?" he asked, kneeling down next to his mother, who was sprawled on the grass.

Sharona tried to push herself up. "Ow! Damnit!" she cried, rubbing her right wrist.

"What's wrong with your wrist, Mom? Is it broken?"

"Yeah, it may be," the nurse answered, turning to face the man responsible for this.

Adrian just stood there, a bewildered expression on his face. His assistant scowled and opened her mouth to yell. But instead, she took a deep breath, hoping it would help soothe her anger. "Adrian," she began calmly, "Would you like to tell me what I'm doing down here?"

"Uh, I, uh, I, uh, I-I-" Monk stammered.

"Yeah, I knew there was a perfectly logical explanation!" Sharona hissed.

"You should go to the hospital," her son suggested, sounding very concerned.

The blonde patted his shoulder. "Yeah, I know, Benjy."

"Um, should we take a cab?"

"No, honey. I can drive. I-"

"What? Y-You can't drive in your condition!" Adrian interrupted. "I'll drive."

Sharona scoffed at his offer. "Oh, I don't think so! You wanna give me some more injuries?"

Benjy reached for her good hand, wanting to help her stand, but Mr. Monk stepped in front of the boy. Squatting beside his friend, he slipped the arm with the injured wrist around his neck, then encircled her waist with his other hand.

Sharona's fury morphed into utter disbelief. "A-Adrian, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you to the hospital, Sharona," he stated matter-of-factly, as he brought his free hand below her knees. But he hovered there briefly, afraid to come in contact with the mud on her legs. "Benjy, I-I need a . . . Oh, never mind." Pressing his palm to the undersides of her knees, he carefully lifted her off the ground.

"Adrian, the hospital is ten blocks from here! What are you gonna do? Carry me the whole way?"

"Eleven," he corrected her. "It's eleven blocks. And, yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Sharona decided to save her breath. Arguing would do nothing but consume time and energy. "Benjy, go grab my purse," she instructed. "It's on the bench."

The detective waited impatiently while the boy retrieved it, and as soon as he returned, the three began the trek to the hospital.

"I can't believe I hurt you," Adrian muttered, shaking his head as he rounded a corner. "I can't believe I hurt you. I just . . . can't believe I hurt you . . ."

"You didn't do it on purpose, Adrian," Sharona said gently, most of her anger having dissipated.

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"Excuse me, Nurse?" Adrian addressed the person in the pink uniform.

"Just one moment, please," the nurse replied, her attention focused on the clipboard in her hands.

"B-But, I-"

"One moment, Sir."

Adrian had no intention of waiting one moment. "_Emergency_Y!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. The young woman jumped in surprise, her clipboard clattering to the floor. A mortified Sharona observed as several other nurses rushed to their aid.

"Her wrist, it-it might be broken," the detective informed them.

The now clipboard-less nurse shot Adrian a dirty look. The rest breathed a grateful yet somewhat annoyed sigh of relief. "I-I'll go get a doctor," one nurse offered.

"You shouldn't have done that, Adrian. You scared them half to death!"

"But she was ignoring me!" he whined.

"Maybe so, but you made off like I was on my last legs!"

Just then, a tall, red-haired man came over. "Nurse Abrams said you needed me?" The physician took another step forward. Adrian moved in the opposite direction. "I got her," Mr. Monk insisted, thinking that the man intended to take Sharona out of his hands.

"Yes, I can see that," the doctor chuckled. "I just want to take a look at her wrist."

"Adrian," Sharona scolded, extending her right arm to the man. The instant he touched her, she bit her lip, grimacing at the pain.

"We'd better take some X-rays. Follow me." The physician turned and escorted the pair down a hallway. "By the way, I'm Dr. Richardson," he introduced himself, just as they reached their destination. Dr. Richardson held open the door and Adrian carried Sharona inside. The doctor gestured toward a long, white table. "Put her over there, please."

"Uh, when was the last time it was, you know, washed?"

Dr. Richardson raised his eyebrows slightly. "Sir, this is a hospital. Everything here is clean. It has to be."

"Yes, but when was the _last_ time that it was-"

Sharona knew she had to intervene. "Adrian," she said sternly, "Do as he says. Put me on the table."

Her boss gazed down at her. "All right," he relented.

Dr. Richardson smiled at Adrian, seeing his obvious concern for this woman. "Thank you, Sir. Why don't you go join your son in the waiting room? This won't take very long. You can fill out the paperwork, too. And don't worry. Your wife's in good hands."

Sharona glanced up. She was about to set him straight, tell him that Benjy was not his son and that she was not his wife, but, in the end, she kept quiet.

Adrian just stood there, not wanting to leave his friend's side. He hadn't even noticed the doctor's mistakes.

"I'll be fine, Adrian," his assistant reassured him. "And, um, I'll take care of all the paperwork. You don't have to."

Monk lingered a moment longer before nodding and stepping out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

"Over here, Mr. Monk!" The detective turned to see Benjy sitting in a stiff wooden chair in the waiting room. "Is she all right?"

"I don't know. I hope so," Adrian replied, lowering himself into the chair next to Benjy. Sighing, he clasped his hands together. As he lowered the interlocked appendages to his lap, he suddenly realized that his skin was still covered in dirt.

Springing to his feet, Monk dashed to the registration desk. "Bathroom! W-Where's the-"

The lady pointed to her left. "Two doors down on the right side."

"Thank you!"

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When Adrian and his dirt-free hands returned to the waiting room, the seat that he had previously occupied was now taken by Sharona. He approached her cautiously. "Sharona, I am _so _sorry that I hurt you. I-"

His assistant stood. "I know, Adrian. And I forgive you. I'm not mad anymore. Honest." She displayed her right wrist, which was now encased in a splint. "See? It wasn't broken after all," Sharona informed him, hoping that this news would ameliorate Monk somewhat. It didn't. The look of sheer guilt remained on his face.

"Are you ready, Mr. Monk?" Benjy asked.

"Ready for what?"

"Ready to go, Adrian," Sharona answered. "I'm all done. Filled out all the forms, everything. Even had time to wash myself off," she added, motioning to her legs, which were no longer caked with mud. "We'll take a taxi back to the park, and then I'll drive home. And I don't want any arguments!" she warned in a teasing tone. "The doctor says it's okay."

Adrian managed a small smile. "Okay. You can drive. But you can't take a cab." Before Sharona could object, her boss bent down and scooped her up in his arms.

"Um, Adrian, I appreciate your concern, but I can walk."

"I know that. I just, you know, wanted to . . . I-I was trying to- "

"Just look at it this way, Mom," Benjy interjected, trying to help the floundering Mr. Monk. "He's saving you cab fare."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"Adrian, are you _sure_ I can't drop you off at your place?"

"What if you need help with something, Sharona?"

"Then I'll ask Benjy."

"But I'm the one who's responsible for this. Just let me help you, okay? It's the least I can do."

"Adrian-"

"Mom!" Benjy yelled just as she was about to protest yet again. His mother and Mr. Monk had been bickering like this since they got in the car, and he couldn't take it anymore. "Just bring him home with us. What's the big deal?"

"Watch your tone, Benjy," Sharona cautioned, though she did have to agree with him. Their argument really was pointless.

"Sorry," the child apologized.

The three rode in somewhat awkward silence for the next several minutes.

"So, um, how's school, Benjy?" Adrian asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"It's fine. I'm doing better in math."

"_Much_ better. Tell Mr. Monk how well you did on your last test," his mother urged, beaming with pride.

"Mom," Benjy moaned. "You're embarrassing me."

"What? Why are you embarrassed? You should proud of yourself. Go ahead. Tell him."

Her demand was met with silence. "All right. Then, I'll tell him. He got a B-."

"That's great, Benjy," Adrian congratulated him. "You're a smart kid."

The boy smiled. "Thanks."

For the remainder of the drive home, Benjy sat quietly while his mom gushed to Mr. Monk about her son's countless academic achievements.

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"Where the heck is he?" Sharona muttered, drying her hands on a towel.

As if on cue, the front door opened, and in walked the man in question.

"There you are. What took you so long?"

"I was, um, cleaning off the back window," Adrian replied honestly, coming into the kitchen and setting a cooler and his canvas sack onto the counter.

Sharona looked skeptical. "For fifteen minutes?"

"It was pretty dirty," he explained. "So were all the other windows."

"Were you worried about him, Mom?" Benjy queried, a mysterious glint in his eye.

For some inexplicable reason, the question made Sharona uncomfortable. The appropriate response eluding her, she blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Well, yeah, Benjy, I _have_ to worry about him. That's what he pays me for."

As soon as she said it, the blonde wished she could recant the words. She saw the hurt look on Adrian's face when he stopped unloading the cooler to look up at her, making her feel even more guilty. _I really need to learn when to shut up_, the nurse scolded herself.Sharona started to apologize when the phone rang.

"I'll get it," Benjy offered, shutting the cabinet. He could sense the tension in the room and wished he had kept the question to himself.

Benjy spoke with the caller for all of five seconds before hanging up. "Um, Mom? That was Drew. Mrs. Cunningham will be here in five minutes."

"Why? What for?"

"Well, I'm sleeping over at Drew's house. Remember I asked you on Monday if I could spend the night there, and you said it was okay?"

"Vaguely."

"I did. I swear. So, can I go? Please?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, sure. Sure," Sharona agreed. "Are you all packed?"

"Uh-huh. I did it this morning."

"All right. Hurry up and get your stuff together."

"Okay. Thanks, Mom!" the boy responded as he headed into his room.

Sharona turned back to Adrian, but the detective was no longer standing next to her. She instead found him on the living room couch, elbows resting on his knees, holding his head in his hands. He resembled a disobedient child pouting in time-out. "Um, Adrian? Can I talk to you?" she asked gently, lowering herself onto the soft cushion beside him. Monk slowly sat up and nodded, keeping his eyes down. "Adrian, I want to-"

But before she could say another word, Benjy hollered "good-bye" and then slammed the door.

Sharona cleared her throat and started again. "Adrian, I want to apologize for what I said. I am really sorry. I made it sound like you're a burden to me, but you're _not_, okay? And I don't ever want you to think otherwise . . . all right?"

Adrian slowly brought his face to hers. The tears in his eyes that had previously expressed sadness now expressed tremendous relief, for he was no longer reconsidering professing his feelings. He responded with a small smile, which his friend eagerly returned.

"So, you forgive me?"

"I forgive you," he replied, his grin widening.

Sharona patted his knee. "Good. So, um, what should we do now?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"Wanna watch a movie?"

"Okay."

"What do you wanna see?"

Another shrug. "Anything."

The blonde knelt down in front of the television set, opening the cabinet below it. Rummaging around for her copy of _A League of Their Own_, she popped the tape into the VCR, and pressed a number of buttons before rejoining him on the couch.

Adrian tried his best to enjoy the movie, but he couldn't forget how scared he had been just moments before. Her answer to Benjy's question had crushed him. After all, how could he tell her that he was in love with her if she thought of him as a burden? But her sincere and instant apology had made his fear quickly subside.

A short ways into the film, the detective looked over at his friend to find her fast asleep, her head resting against the back of the couch. She did not look very comfortable.

Sliding closer to her, Adrian gingerly brought her head to his chest then wrapped his arm around her, placing his hand on Sharona's shoulder.

It did not take long, however, for his hand to start traveling. He moved the slightly quivering appendage down her shoulder and past her shirt, until he was touching her bare skin. Then he gently closed his fingers around her arm. Monk hoped she wouldn't mind, but he could not resist seizing this perfect opportunity to touch her.

With his free hand, the detective brushed a few stray hairs from her face. Leaning down slightly, he gently pressed his lips to her forehead, hoping she would not mind this, either. But, again, it was just too hard to resist.

Smiling, Adrian closed his eyes and rested his head on top of hers. Soon, he, too, was fast asleep.

Some twenty minutes later, the front door opened again, and Benjy entered. He had forgotten his Spiderman trading cards, and Mrs. Cunningham had begrudgingly driven him all the way home. She and Drew were now waiting in the car downstairs.

Benjy took a few steps into the apartment and then stopped at the sight before him, a broad grin spreading onto his face.

Suddenly getting an idea, he took off for his room and returned two minutes later with the instant camera that had taken him nearly six months to save up for.

He moved in front of the TV and quickly snapped a photo of the pair. Placing the picture onto the coffee table, he went back to his room to dig out his binder of cards from beneath the bed.

When the boy returned, the image was completely developed. "They're gonna love this!" he whispered aloud, setting it back on the table before making his exit.

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Sharona awoke to find herself in bed. She was neatly tucked in, with the covers pulled just above her waist. Yawning and stretching, she sat up and glanced at her alarm clock. 10:30 P.M. "I really dozed off," she commented as she pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Seeing as the apartment was dark, she figured that Adrian had gone home. Either that or he had decided to sleep on the couch, which was highly unlikely. Switching on a light in the living room confirmed her friend's departure.

As the groggy blonde turned to go back into her bedroom, something on the coffee table caught her eye - the photograph. Picking it up, she inspected it closely.

_Who took this?_ Sharona wondered. _Had to be Benjy. Probably did it as a joke. He must've forgotten something and came home and saw us like this._

Further examination brought a number of questions to mind. Why _were_ she and Adrian "like this"? Why hadn't Monk simply propped her legs up on the couch and put a pillow behind her head? Why was he . . . hugging her? Holding her?

Her attention was next drawn to the hand that he had clasped around her arm. Why hadn't he just rested his hand on her shoulder, on top of her shirt? Why was his skin touching hers?

Sharona continued to stare at the picture intently, trying to come up with answers to her inquiries.

_Because he **wanted** to touch me,_ she finally realized, the corners of her lips tugging into a smile. The thought sent an oddly pleasing chill up her spine. But this time, she neither tried, nor wanted, to find an explanation for this feeling. She simply wanted to enjoy it.

Flipping off the light, Sharona returned to her room and crawled into bed.

"Night, Adrian," she whispered as she set the picture down on the nightstand.

But then she changed her mind, slipping the photo underneath her pillow instead.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

At two in the morning, Sharona was jolted out of a sound sleep. Someone was loudly and relentlessly pounding on her front door.

"What in the . . . .?" she grumbled, slowly opening her tired eyes. She clumsily reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, sweeping her romance novel to the floor in the process.

Crawling out of bed, the blonde stumbled down the hallway. As she entered the living room, she could faintly hear someone calling her name and imploring, "Please open up". She recognized the voice as belonging to Adrian.

Sharona's head was beginning to throb from all the clamoring, so she forced herself to move a little faster. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

At last, she reached the door. "Hold on a second, Adrian!" she called as she fumbled with the chain. Finally managing to slide it off, she unlocked the entryway and pulled it open.

Before her stood a trembling, terrified man clad in his pajamas. He was breathing rather heavily. A worried expression came over Sharona's face. "Adrian! What happened to you? What's wrong?"

The man said nothing. Instead, his terrified expression transformed into a huge grin. "Sharona! I'm so glad you're all right!" he cried, flinging his arms around his assistant, nearly knocking her down. "Sharona, I'm so glad you're all right!" he repeated, seizing her more tightly.

Sharona gasped in pain as her splint dug into her leg. Her arms were pinned to her sides, robbing her of the ability to move them. In addition to that, she could barely breathe.

As if reading her mind, Adrian loosened his hold, though only slightly. Sharona's wrist still hurt, but it was bearable, and at least she could breathe without effort.

At this point, Adrian was muttering "I'm so glad you're all right" over and over again as he swayed from side to side.

Before long, the tension in his body began to melt away. Sharona could feel his heartbeat return to a steady pace as he grew more relaxed.

"I'm all right, Adrian," she soothed. "I'm all right." _What's he so torn up about_? _"_Why don't we sit on the couch, Adrian? Okay? And you can tell me what's wrong."

"O-Okay," he answered softly, putting an end to the repetitive utterance. Gradually, and with some reluctance, he released her.

Sharona smiled at him. "Come on," she said gently, sliding an arm around Monk's shoulders and guiding to the couch.

"I-It was horrible, Sharona, just horrible," Adrian murmured as he seated himself close to his friend.

"What was horrible?"

"The dream. The-The nightmare."

"What happened?" his companion inquired, placing a caring hand on his arm.

"Well, some-some raving lunatic was chasing you. Some murderer we were trying to catch," he began, his voice tremulous. "But he caught you first, and he-he hurt you. He . . . beat you up, and he strangled you, and then left you for . . . dead." Adrian could barely get that word out. He took a deep breath before continuing. "You were in the hospital fighting for your life. And-And nobody would tell me anything. I was waiting for hours. Just . . . pacing up and down and up and down . . . I didn't know what to do with myself. I was so . . . lost. And-And Stottlemeyer was there, and he kept telling me to calm down and relax and everything would be fine. And then, he-he _touched_ me, Sharona." Adrian shuddered. "He didn't even touch my skin, just my jacket." Monk placed his hand on his shoulder to demonstrate. "But it was still so _repulsive_. I couldn't believe he did that! And I jerked away and gave him this-this angry, hateful look. A-And I shouted at him: 'What are you _doing_? Sharona can touch me! No one else!'" The distraught detective paused and looked down at the blonde's hand, which was now gliding up and down his forearm.

"Go on, Adrian," she urged.

Bringing his gaze back to her face, Monk cleared his throat. "Well, um, then he-then he left me alone. A-And I went back to pacing up and down and up and down and . . . and then _finally_ the doctor came out and walked over to me, and . . ." His voice trailed off as tears began to form in his dark brown eyes.

"And what, Adrian?" Sharona probed, though she already knew what he was going to say.

The man beside her took another deep breath. "And he had this look on his face. I knew. I just knew," he went on, shaking his head sadly. "He told me that they did all they could, but they-they just couldn't save you. And . . . after the doctor told me that you . . . that you . . . were gone, I remember getting dizzy. My head was spinning. My-My knees buckled. I dropped to the floor and just . . . . just sobbed. It was . . . I-I can't even begin to describe how I felt, Sharona."

A tear trickled down his cheek. Instinctively, Sharona brought her hand to his face and caught the tear on her fingertip. She was about to apologize for touching him when she remembered his words. _Sharona can touch me_.

Adrian smiled and took the nurse's hand into his. This elicited a blush from his companion. Monk pressed her palm to his cheek, closing his eyes and reveling in the comforting warmth that her touch generated.

After a moment of silence, Adrian raised his lids and stared into Sharona's clouded blue eyes. "I'm sorry I made you sad, Sharona," he apologized, lowering his hand, still wrapped around hers, to his lap.

"No, it's fine. Go on."

The detective's eyes remained glued to the carpeting. "Well, um . . . the-the next thing I know, I'm awake a-and panting and sweating. I was so scared, I just . . . . jumped out of bed and ran all the way over here. I mean, part of me knew it was only a nightmare and that you were really okay, but I-I refused to believe it."

This time, a tear rolled down Sharona's cheek. Discreetly, she brushed it away.

Adrian raised his eyes to hers again. "But when I saw you, when you opened the door, I was-I was _so_ happy, Sharona, so happy that you were all right." Releasing her hand, Monk wrapped his arms around her once more.

Sharona couldn't hold back the tears any longer. Returning the embrace, she rested her chin on his shoulder and allowed the droplets of water to cascade freely down her cheeks. She wasn't sure exactly why she was crying, but it felt good nonetheless. Gently, the duo rocked back and forth.

Adrian tightened his hold as he placed his own chin on the blonde's shoulder. He felt so content in her arms, so at peace. His eyes were getting misty again, but with tears of joy, not of sadness. Adrian smiled. He never wanted to let go, and, by the way her left hand was clutching his shoulder, he sensed that she didn't, either.

After ten minutes, however, she did let go, pulling away from him slowly. "Um, why don't you stay here for the night, huh? You can sleep in my bed," Sharona offered, finally removing her hands from his body completely.

Monk appreciated the invitation. "Thank you, Sharona," he accepted.

Sharona pushed herself off the couch and started for her bedroom. Adrian was right behind her.

"I'm just gonna grab a pillow and a blanket," she said when they were inside.

The detective looked perplexed. "What for?"

"For the couch. I'm sleeping on the couch," she told him, confused herself as to why he needed an explanation.

"Oh," her friend replied dejectedly.

"What's wrong?"

"Uh, well . . . can we sleep together?" Adrian requested with genuine innocence. Nevertheless, Sharona couldn't stifle the giggle. "What? I-I didn't mean it _that_ way," he said sheepishly.

"Oh, I know. I know."

_Should I let him sleep with me? _she considered._ I mean, it's no big deal, right? _After deliberating for a short while longer, the nurse arrived at a decision. "All right, Adrian. We can sleep together." A large grin materialized on Adrian's face. "And, um, the sheets are clean, so don't worry," she assured him.

"I know. I, uh, I changed them before I put you to bed."

Another giggle escaped, accompanied by an eye roll. "I should've known."

Adrian pulled back the covers, his smile fading as he examined the sheets.

"What's wrong?" his companion inquired, climbing into bed.

_So, the sheets are wrinkled, Monk, what's the big deal? _he chastised himself. _Just get in bed._ "Nothing's wrong. I'm-I'm good."

Sharona gave him a small smile and then stretched out on the soft mattress.

Adrian, instead of remaining on one side of the bed, slid his pillow and himself over to hers, decreasing the distance between them. Sharona's brows furrowed in suspicion. When he finally settled down, he was so close to her that their shoulders, arms, and hips were in contact.

The nurse was incredulous. _Oh, my God! Adrian just snuggled up to me!_

"I'm trying to get comfortable," he stated matter-of-factly in response to her facial expression.

Before shutting his eyes, Monk once again reached for Sharona's hand. He pressed their palms together and tenderly slipped his fingers in between hers. "Good night, Sharona," he murmured as he drifted off to sleep.

The baffled look remained on Sharona's face. _What is with Adrian lately? Why is he seem to have this uncontrollable urge touch me? Carrying me, hugging me, holding my hand . . . snuggling up to me? _She remembered the photograph tucked safely beneath her pillow. The strangely pleasing chill the blonde had experienced last night returned twofold.

Sharona's eyes traveled down to their joined hands, and she saw that she was stroking the side of his with her thumb. _How long have I been doing that?_ she wondered while continuing the motion.

The detective's hand was warm and sweaty, but still . . . it felt good. Really good.

Suddenly, she realized something. Adrian wasn't the only one who enjoyed their close physical contact. She did, too, especially when they were holding hands like this, or hugging.

Closing her eyes, the nurse pictured the detective holding her just like he had been not ten minutes ago. He had such nice, strong arms . . . And maybe it wasn't the tightness of his grasp that had made her breath catch. Maybe it was just the feel of his chest pressed firmly against hers . . . This last thought made her body tingle all over.

Sharona's eyes flew open. Paranoia set in. _What is wrong with me! He's my boss, for heaven's sake! Well, sure, we're also friends, but our relationship is strictly platonic. Although . . . Okay, hold on a second here, Sharona. Although **what**? Although you wouldn't mind if you and Adrian were more than friends? No, that's not what I was thinking. Oh, come off it, Sharona. That's **exactly** what you were thinking. Just admit it already! No! Because there's nothing to admit! I don't like him that way! Yes, you do! No, I don't! Fine, then. Keep denying it. I'm not denying anything! I like him as a friend, and that's it! Nothing more!_

Sharona had given herself a headache. She didn't want to think about him any longer. She didn't want to think about anything.

Glancing over at the man beside her, the blonde saw that Monk was out like a light. She half -smiled. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Sighing, Sharona closed her eyes again, knowing full well that she would get little, if any sleep that night.

_No big deal, right? Wrong._


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT  
**  
Sharona awoke with a smile on her face. Next to her, Adrian was snoozing peacefully, a small smile planted on his own face. _What is he so happy about?_ she asked herself, watching the detective's chest rise and fall with his steady breathing.

After a couple of minutes, Sharona decided that it was time to drag herself out of bed. But first, she had to do something about her numb left hand, which was still entwined with Adrian's.

With the fingers of her right, she carefully attempted to pry the lifeless appendage from his grasp. This took several minutes, but finally, she succeeded in freeing herself. Examining her hand, Sharona noticed that her skin was stark white from where Adrian's flesh was pressing into it. She flexed her fingers slowly then gently shook her wrist back and forth.

_Sheesh! You'd think his grip would've loosened a **little**!_ she thought, laughing softly as she massaged her hand and digits. Once she got the blood circulating again, she pushed aside the blanket and stood up.

She observed Adrian stir when her body left his side, but he remained sleeping.

_This is probably the best he's slept in years_, she speculated, turning to her alarm clock to see the red numbers flash 11:05.

Sharona, on the other hand, had had a very restless morning, but she tossed and turned mentally, not physically. She lay awake for hours, trying to will herself into slumber, but her mind would simply not shut down. Not only that, but the only thing that her mind would focus on was her bedmate. This was no big surprise, of course, considering how close the two literally were.

And when she finally did manage to fall asleep, the blonde had dreamed about none other than Adrian Monk. Furthermore, despite the fact that she almost never remembered her dreams, she could recall her most recent one in such vivid, minute detail that it was a bit frightening.

_She and Adrian were sitting on the sofa in her apartment, she in a long, sparkly, black dress, and he in a navy blue suit. They were sipping champagne, staring seductively into each other's eyes over the rims of their glasses. After a long period of relaxed silence, Adrian set his glass down on the coffee table and stood up, removing a small, velvety box from his pants pocket. _

Monk knelt down on one knee and lifted the lid, holding it up to her. "Sharona,' he began, his eyes gleaming with joy, "Will you marry me?"

The nurse's hands flew to her mouth, and happy tears rolled down her cheeks. "Yes, Adrian! Yes!" she cried, squealing with delight as she jumped up and pulled him to his feet.

Adrian slid the beautiful diamond ring onto her finger, and she rewarded him with a passionate kiss. When they broke apart, the detective let out a heavy sigh. "I'm so glad you accepted, Sharona. I was afraid you might turn me down."

His fiancee scoffed in mock disbelief. "Oh, please. Like I'm really gonna pass up the opportunity to marry a gorgeous, wonderful man like you." With that, she pulled him into another zealous embrace.

For the next four hours, the couple cuddled on the sofa and talked about anything and everything, until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

Sharona grinned as she brought her fingers to her lips. She could still "feel" his kiss. 'That dream seemed so real, a little _too_ real. But it was so wonderful . . . _Uh-oh. I'd better do something to get Adrian out of my head._

Pushing herself off the bed, the blonde made her way over to her clothes closet. By the time she finished selecting the day's wardrobe, her wrist had begun to throb. "Damn," she muttered, shutting the dresser drawer. She would have to take two capsules of aspirin.

Sharona hadn't needed any painkillers since she'd left the hospital. Even when Adrian had hugged her too tightly, the pain had subsided relatively fast. _That's weird. If I sprained it so badly, like the doctor said, then why hasn't it hurt that much? I mean, I haven't got **that** much tolerance for pain. _

Her gaze was drawn back to her sleeping friend, and suddenly, it came to her. When she was thinking of Adrian, her pain seemed to disappear. But when she was focused on other things, like just now when she was trying to decide on an outfit, the pain returned.

_It's like Adrian has the power to heal me or something . . . Oh, yeah, sure._ She rolled her eyes. _He may be pretty damn phenomenal, but he's no, well, phenomenon! That doesn't even make any sense . . . Still, he does have a pretty strong effect on me . . . I think I should get that aspirin now. _Not just for her wrist, but for the headache that was coming on._  
_  
Picking up her clothes, she walked to the bathroom and flipped on the light switch with her elbow. Placing her garments on top of the hamper, Sharona headed over to the sink to retrieve the bottle of aspirin from the medicine cabinet. She poured herself a cup of water, placed the capsules onto her tongue, and chased them down with the cool liquid.  
_  
Might as well take a shower now_, she decided, replacing the bottle on the shelf. She had almost shut the cabinet door when she paused. _On second thought, I'll take a bath. Can't remember the last time I had one of those._ Satisfied with her idea, the blonde pulled the small door back open and this time removed a slender, pink container labeled "Bubble Bath".

While waiting for the tub to fill and the bubbles to foam, she sat down on the edge and watched as the hot water flowed into the basin, splashing against the white porcelain. This activity, however, failed to provide a great enough distraction, and in fewer than thirty seconds, thoughts of you-know-who were starting to invade her mind again. Sharona needed another diversion, and fast. "I have a good idea," she proclaimed.

Leaving her spot, she went into the living room and returned a few moments later with her walkman. Setting the headset down on a floor tile, she shut off the water and began to disrobe, discarding her vestments right where she shed them. Undressing proved a bit difficult due to the splint restricting movement of her right hand, but she managed to get everything off in due time.

Before getting into the tub, Sharona turned off the lights. She wasn't in total darkness; the window shade was pulled down, but the slits still allowed sunlight to stream through. "Perfect," she declared

Kicking her shorts aside, the blonde climbed in, drawing the shower curtain closed. She sat down at one end and stretched her legs out. Reaching over, she untangled the chord of her headphones and slipped them on. With a contented sigh, she rested her arms on the sides of the tub, letting her injured wrist dangle over the edge.

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

Adrian coerced his eyes open and sluggishly sat up, leaning his back against the headboard. He saw the empty space next to him and frowned. Where's Sharona? Looking down, he noticed that the fingers of his right hand were still curled up. While he massaged them, Adrian fondly recalled the dream he had had that morning.

It was the day of his marriage to Sharona. Everything was perfect: the flowers, the cake, the weather.

The wedding march commenced, and Sharona soon appeared at the foot of the nave. The second Adrian laid eyes on her, his heart started pounding madly in eager anticipation.

Her golden blonde hair glistened in the sun, her curls blowing in the wind, brushing against her face.

As the bride walked approached in her long, white dress, her soon-to-be-husband could do nothing but stare, completely captivated by the exquisite sight advancing towards him.

When the nuptials began, Adrian didn't hear a single word the minister was saying. In fact, the man had to call his name several times before getting a response. Sharona just laughed, smiling lovingly at the groom.

Adrian regained his composure and the ceremony continued, with both reading their own vows.

It then came time to exchange the rings. With a shaky hand, Monk placed the gold band safely around her finger, and was surprised to find that Sharona's hand was trembling even more than his.

His excitement increased tenfold when the minister said those six wonderful words. "You may now kiss the bride"' The sentence was barely out of his mouth before Adrian was doing just that, his arms wrapped tightly around his new wife's body.

Adrian raised his hand to his mouth. He could still "feel" her lips against his. Smiling, he stood up and got to work making the bed.

Placing his pillow at the opposite end of the mattress, he reached for Sharona's. As soon as he lifted it, he encountered the photograph that she had placed there the night before. He carefully took it in his hands and admired it. "Benjy," he stated knowingly. "He really is a smart kid. I'll have to thank him the next time I see him."

Still smiling, Monk lightly pressed his lips to the female's image.

He knew this was a promising sign, Sharona storing the picture beneath her pillow for safe- keeping. It meant that the photo was precious to her.

Adrian's smile broadened. He would tell her his feelings today; there was no doubt about it.

Down the hall, Sharona was also covered in goose pimples, though hers were caused as much by cold water as by warm, fuzzy feelings for her best friend. After half an hour, her time of peaceful relaxation had come to an end.

Removing her earphones, the nurse leaned over the side of the bathtub to turn the music off. She unplugged the drain next, and, holding onto the wall for support, forced her limp, shivering body upright. Tugging the shower curtain aside, she emerged from the tub and began to dry herself off.

Just as she started on her arms, the door swung open, and the lights came on. Taken by complete surprise, Sharona shrieked and dropped the towel.

In the doorway stood Adrian, with one foot still on the carpet in the hallway.

The detective gasped when he caught sight of her. But instead of apologizing and immediately bolting from the room, he just stood there, motionless, as if his feet were glued to the floor.

His naked assistant appeared to be stuck to the floor as well. The only part of her that was moving was her mouth, though no sounds were coming out. After several failed attempts, she finally managed to speak. "A-A-A-Adrain," she stammered, "C-Could you go . . . away . . . please?" she begged in a timid voice.

Adrian did not adhere to her wishes. He wanted to, but his body simply would not allow it.

Sharona's face flushed. _Um, Sharona?_ the voice in her head addressed her, _You know that purple heap on the floor? Well, you might wanna bend down, pick it up, wrap it around yourself, and **get the hell out of here**! . . . Then again, you might not. All right. But you should at least use your arms to cover the important parts, even though it **is** a little late now. And he does seem to be enjoying the view of the full monty. So why not let him look for as long as he wants? . . . Damnit, Sharona! **Do something**!_

But all she could do was shut her eyes. _Oh, that's brilliant, Sharona. Shut **your** eyes._

A few feet in front of her, a different set of eyes remained wide open. Slowly, Adrian's gaze drifted from her face, to her chest, and kept going south. During his visual exploration, Monk began to feel a little funny in his nether regions, though he wasn't entirely aware of what was going on. Meanwhile, an oblivious Sharona was trying without success to convince herself that her boss was no longer in the room.

After admiring the bright red polish coating her toenails, the detective had now studied every inch of the front of her body.

"A-Adrian, please go away." Tears of humiliation had formed and were threatening to fall at any given moment. "_Please_, Adrian!" she pleaded more insistently, finally forcing her lids back.

Something immediately drew her attention. At that very instant, Sharona's limbs regained their mobility and she reached down, seized her towel, and hastily wrapped it around her body. She then marched to the door, pushing past the dazed man on her way out.

Upon hearing a slam, Adrian jerked back to reality. Still feeling kind of funny, he glanced down and discovered the reason for Sharona's hurried departure.

Behind her closed - and locked - door, his assistant was pacing frantically in front of the bed. "I can't _believe_ I didn't lock the door!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. "Hell, I didn't even _close_ it! But if I had just left the damn lights on, he'd have known I was in there, and none of this would've happened!"

The blonde lost her grip on the towel and it fell to the ground, but she didn't bother to pick it up. _It doesn't matter if I'm covered up **now**,_ she thought, then reconsidered. _Unless Adrian can see through the walls. They **are** pretty thin . . . Oh, come on, Sharona! Quit being ridiculous!  
_  
"Quit being ridiculous! My boss just saw me naked! _And_ he got excited, turned on, _aroused_!" she wailed, plopping down on the perfectly-made bed.

_Hello! He can hear you_! she reminded herself.

Sharona took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "All right, let's not be overly dramatic about this. It's not the end of the world. Just get dressed, go back out there, and pretend like nothing happened . . . Oh, right. It's really gonna be that easy. I can't just-"

_Oh, for heaven's sake, Sharona! Put some damn clothes on before you freeze to death!_ her inner voice interrupted, trying to talk some sense into her.

Gradually rising, the nurse scanned the room, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "Okay, where are my . . ." She sighed as she realized she had left her change of clothes in the bathroom.

_There's no way I'm gonna go get them. He might still be in there. Besides, it's not like I'd wear that outfit now anyway. Low-cut tank top and push-up bra? Not happening. Adrian had one free show. He's certainly not getting another. He doesn't . . ._

Her eyes fell on the lamp the bedside table. "I thought I left that on." Taking a step closer, she reached under the shade and fiddled with the knob. "Crap. It burnt out."

Exhaling sharply, she went over to the closet and examined the selection. "Where's a sweat-suit when you need one?" she grumbled. "I'll have to add that to my shopping list. Item numero uno: sweat-suit, preferably one two sizes too large. Right below that: new light bulb."

Finally, Sharona removed a dark pink sweater and black denims, her least-revealing shirt and loosest pair of tight-fitting jeans, respectively.

After dressing, she sat down to fix her hair and apply her make-up. She did nothing special with her hair; she simply brushed it and left it down, tucking a few strands behind her ears. She couldn't have done much with it even if she'd wanted to. Hairstyling involved two good hands, not one. As for her make-up, she took the subtle approach, using only one coat of foundation and omitting lipstick and eye shadow altogether.

When she finished, Sharona closed her compact and made her way to the door. She unlocked it then hesitated, her fingers closed around the knob. _Come on, Sharona. You can face him. Remember: It's not the end of the world._ With one last deep breath, she opened the door a fraction of the way and cautiously poked her head out.

The blonde first looked in the direction of the bathroom, half expecting Adrian to be exactly where she had left him. But such was not the case. Stepping out into the hallway, she started for the kitchen.

And there he was, sitting at the table, eating a piece of toast.

"H-Hey, Adrian!" she called, managing a small smile.

Her boss didn't look up. "Hi, Sharona," Adrian whispered. He pushed a loaf of bread towards her. "Want some?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry," she answered quietly as she slid into the seat across from him.

After several moments of absent conversation, Sharona thought of something to say that might lighten the mood a little. "You know, the, um, the bathroom incident reminds me of a joke I heard on a TV show the other day, _The Nanny_. You ever see that show?" she asked, hoping that he would look at her.

"No," Monk replied, shaking his head and taking another bite, his eyes still fixed on the crumb-covered plate.

"Oh. Well, anyway, Fran says to Maxwell, her boss: 'You give me a raise, and I'll give you one'." Sharona waited for him to respond, but he said nothing. "I-I thought it was sorta appropriate, you know, 'cause you gave me a raise last month . . . Well, granted, a very different kind of raise . . . A-And I guess yours was a little late in coming, but still . . . Uh, not-not 'coming' as in . . . Oh, my God. Okay, you know what? I'm gonna shut up now."

Adrian had only heard the first part of the joke. He had devoted more attention to the sound of her voice than to what she was actually saying.

And now that she had stopped talking, it was his turn. Clearing his throat, he set down the half-consumed piece of toast and slowly brought his gaze to meet hers. "Sharona, I'm really sorry, that, um . . . that I walked in on you. I should've knocked."

"Well, it's my fault. I left the door open. And the lights were off, so how were you supposed to know I was in there?"

"That doesn't matter. I still should've knocked. I just barged in. You kept asking me to leave, and I wouldn't. I just . . . kept looking. I'm sorry. And I didn't . . . I didn't just look at your face, Sharona," he admitted sheepishly, his cheeks taking on the color of cherries.

Adrian had made sure to choose his words carefully. He didn't want to apologize for looking at her; he wasn't sorry about that. However, he was remorseful that he had looked without her permission. He felt as if he had taken advantage of her.

"I figured your eyes must have wandered," the nurse teased.

The detective was surprised at her reaction. "You're not upset?"

"No. I mean, I was a little upset . . . Okay, that's an understatement. I totally freaked out. I'm sure you heard me. But it was really embarrassing."

"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Sharona," Adrian stated with conviction. "You're beautiful. You look . . . amazing."

His compliment rendered her speechless. She couldn't even get the words "thank you" out of her mouth.

But before silence could take over once again, Sharona regained her voice. "You fell asleep so fast last - this morning. You zonked out like this," she remarked, snapping her fingers on the word "this" to demonstrate. "You must've felt a lot better."

"Well, I feel okay when you're around. Sharona, will you make me a promise?" Adrian requested, his voice grave.

"What kind of promise?"

"Promise me you'll never quit again, no matter what. I realized something. I-I realized that-that my life . . . rests in your hands. Without you, I would have no reason to live. Nothing would matter to me anymore. I . . . I would emotionally cease to exist."

As she processed this, a smile crept onto her face. "You know, as terrifying as that is, being depended on like that, -it's just as exciting. So, I promise, Adrian. I promise I won't quit again. Ever. And I'm sorry for all those times that I did."

"You always came back, though."

"I couldn't stay away. I don't what I'd do without you, either." All of a sudden, Sharona felt very vulnerable, as though she were once again exposed to him.

Sensing her discomfort, Adrian changed the subject, much to her appreciation. "So, what are you doing today?"

"Oh. Well, I've, uh, I've got a bunch of errands to run. You can come with me, if you want."

Adrian was tempted to accept his assistant's offer, but he knew he needed a good deal of time to plan his confession. "No. I think I'll stay here. I have some cleaning . . . and some thinking to do. I think best when I clean, so . . ."

"All right. Then, um, I'm gonna call Benjy before I go," she said, getting up from her chair.

Monk finished his toast and brought his plate to the sink.

"Fine, Benjy. Five o'clock. You do your homework? . . . _All_ of it? . . . Okay. Bye." Replacing the receiver in its holder, Sharona turned back to her boss. "I'll be home by five thirty."

"I'll have dinner ready when you get back," he told her, returning the clean plate to its former location.

"Oh, you don't have to do that. I'll make dinner."

"It's okay, Sharona. I'll do it. You do enough for me." He smiled at her, and she averted her eyes, quickly striding from the room.

When she came back, she found Adrian standing apprehensively by the open front door. "What's wrong? Oh, did you change your mind? I'll wait for you if-"

The detective silenced her by suddenly grabbing her shoulders and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Have a nice day," he mumbled before disappearing around the corner.

Sharona lingered in the doorway for a moment, touching her cheek. Her body temperature seemed to have risen a few degrees.

_I will now_, was her parting thought.


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks to Dad for his idea._

**CHAPTER NINE**

At exactly five thirty, Sharona and her son entered the apartment and were greeted by a wonderful aroma.

"Whoa!" Benjy remarked. "What smells so good?"

"Mr. Monk made dinner for us," his mother replied, walking into the kitchen and setting the grocery bag down onto the table. "Benjy, go put your stuff in your room, okay? And wash your hands."

"Okay."

Sharona removed two cans of vegetables from the paper sack. "Adrian?" she called.

"Coming!" her boss answered from the bathroom. Seconds later, he joined his friend by the counter.

"Let me do that," he offered, taking the box of spaghetti from her.

"Oh. Thanks."

While Adrian put the groceries away, Sharona cleaned her hands. When she shut off the water, she heard humming. She listened closely. "Hey, that's the song we heard on the radio yesterday."

The detective placed the orange juice carton on the bottom shelf and shut the refrigerator. "Yeah, I-"

"So, when do we eat?" interrupted Benjy.

"In one minute," Mr. Monk replied, folding up the empty paper bag and tossing it into the recycling bin. He then washed his hands, and the trio made their way into the dining room.

Sharona gasped at the sight before her. On top of a pastel blue, linen tablecloth sat a vase of fresh flowers, two flickering pink candles, and her best dishes. "Oh, my God, Adrian! This-This looks beautiful!" she exclaimed.

Her son nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it looks great, Mr. Monk!"

"You really went all out, Adrian. I can't believe this." His assistant shook her head in awe and touched a flower petal. "Where did you get these?"

"I ordered them. I thought they'd be a nice touch," he responded, shrugging casually.

"And where'd you get the vase?" was her next question, as she ran her fingers over the sparkling crystal.

"Back of the pantry on the bottom shelf."

"Didn't even remember I had it . . . You know, you really didn't have to do all this work, Adrian," she said, refocusing her attention on him.

"You're worth it," her friend stated, pulling out two chairs and indicating for Sharona and her son to sit down.

"Ohhh. Aren't you quite the gentleman?" she commented, a broad grin on her face.

Returning the smile, Adrian pushed their chairs in and took a seat across from Sharona.

One by one, he removed the lids of the three serving dishes to reveal the entrée that he had prepared. The meal consisted of baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Milk served as the beverage.

"Um, Adrian, why is there milk in _your_ glass?"

The detective chuckled. "I like milk."

The blonde's jaw collided with the tabletop. "Since when?"

"Since today. I tried it. It's . . . not so bad."

"I don't believe you."

With a smirk, Adrian picked up his glass, raised it to his lips, and sipped the cool, creamy liquid.

His assistant gawked as she witnessed the undulation of his esophagus, indicating that he had actually swallowed and consumed the beverage. "Oh, my God! Adrian, I am so proud of you!"

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

After dinner, at Adrian's insistence, Sharona left the clean-up to her boss and her son and headed into the living room. Situating herself on the couch, she flipped through several programs before settling on _Wheel of Fortune_. Like always, she managed to solve most of the puzzles before the contestants did. "Damn. I could've won ten thousand dollars."

"Thanks for dinner, Mr. Monk," Benjy said as he handed the detective another plate.

"You're welcome, Benjy."

"So, you did all that for my mom, huh?"

Adrian's face reddened. "W-What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. You were trying to impress her." He paused. "I've seen the way you look at her."

"Uh, thanks for your help, Benjy. Why don't you, um, go play your video games for awhile, okay?"

The boy shrugged, pretending to dismiss the matter. "Okay. Whatever."

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

"Sharona?" her boss called in a shaky voice. "Could you-Could you come in here, please? In the dining room?"

"I'll be right there!" she answered, shutting off the TV and replacing the remote on the spotless coffee table.

"What is it, Adrian?" she asked upon entering.

Her pleasant tone soothed his nerves a bit. Pointing to the chair nearest him, he instructed her to sit.  
Sharona eyed him quizzically but sat in the designated place.

"I'll be in the living room," Monk informed her, and was gone before she could respond.

Mystified, his assistant looked down at the plate in front of her. Staring up into her round, blue eyes were the words _I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU_ spelled out in Benjy's Alpha-Bits cereal. Sharona nearly fell over.

She had no idea what to think or what to say or what to do. She simply stared at the perfectly arranged letters until they became one big blur.

Out in the living room, Adrian's thoughts were running amuck. _I hope I didn't make a mistake. I really, really hope I didn't make a mistake. But what if I did? What if she rejects me? Or worse, what if she quits? For good. Because she can't face me anymore. Oh, God. But she promised. She promised she'd never quit again. But, then, she made that vow before she knew how I felt . . . Oh, God. I'll lose her completely. Damnit! _he cursed to himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

When he opened them again, Sharona's smiling face loomed in front of his.

"Are you okay, Adrian?"

"Y-You're smiling," the detective observed, his hopes rising a little.

"That was just so touching, Adrian. And brilliant. Very brilliant."

Trembling, Monk reached out and seized her left hand in his. "The idea hit me, um, literally, when I was cleaning the pantry today."

Sharona's smile widened. "Adrian, why were you so distracted yesterday? What were you thinking about?" she queried, though she already knew the answer.

"You. I was thinking about you. About how I should explain my . . . feelings."

"You know, it was . . . really nice being in your arms. And when we were in bed together, and especially when you kissed me, I . . . I never realized how nice it would be to be so . . . physically close to you." The blonde blushed slightly and looked down at their joined hands. "And it may sound strange, but, um, when I think about you, my wrist doesn't hurt. It does when I think about other things, but not you . . ." Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the words to express herself.

"I really like that picture Benjy took," Adrian put in.

At his comment, the teary-eyed nurse lifted her head to meet his gaze. "It's under my pillow," she confessed in a whisper.

"I know. I found it when I was making the bed."

"Hmm. Adrian, um, how long have you . . . been in love with me?"

"For about a year," he responded, to which his companion looked alleviated.

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I was kinda worried that maybe you were . . . confused, I guess, about your feelings. 'Cause of your nightmare and what happened in the bathroom."

Adrian shook his head vigorously. "Sharona, I am _not_ confused. At all."

In spite of his insistence, there remained one last thing she had to ask, one last question rolling around on her tongue.

"What about Trudy? I mean, you're still in love with her. How can you be in love with two people at once?"

"I don't know, Sharona. I really don't . . . But as much as I love Trudy and always will, that doesn't mean I'm not capable of loving you just as much."

She nodded her understanding, blinking back more tears.

The detective could stand the suspense no longer. "Sharona . . . are you . . . in love . . . with _me_?"

Taking a deep breath, the blonde tightened her grip on his fingers and looked him straight in the eye. "Yes," she answered. "I'm in love with you, too."

Now Adrian was the one crying. He heaved a gigantic sigh of relief.

"I tried to tell myself that I wasn't, but . . . deep down, I knew I was," she went on. "I've probably been in love with you for a long time and just didn't realize it." Releasing his hand, she embraced him tightly.

Neither had experienced such euphoria in years.

After a few moments, Sharona pulled back. "You know what we should do tomorrow? We should go on a date."

Adrian caressed her cheek. "I'd like that. But if we go back to the park, we should try and avoid the swings," he kidded.

Letting loose a giggle, Sharona moved to sit on her new boyfriend's lap.

His arms encircled her waist, and he pulled her close.

"Trying for another?" she whispered seductively, arching one eyebrow and draping an arm around his shoulders.

Adrian laughed and rested his head against hers. They sat like this for some time, simply enjoying their proximity.

"Oh, I meant to ask. Did you have a nice day?" Monk inquired.

"Nope. I had a wonderful day."


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

Benjy groaned and rolled out of bed. His mother's alarm clock had gone off five minutes ago, and the loud rock music was still blaring from the tiny speakers. _How could anyone sleep through that?_ he wondered as he made his way into her room.

It was apparent from the disheveled state of the sheets that Sharona had had a very restless night. _I'll let her sleep_, he resolved, hitting the off button.

Five hours and many unanswered phone calls later, a groggy Sharona opened her eyes. At that very instant, a shrill _riiiiiing_ pierced her eardrums.

Pushing her hair off of her face, she hurried to the living room.

"H-Hello?"

"Sharona, are you all right?" demanded the very frantic man on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Adrian," she replied through a yawn. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I called _fifteen_ times, Sharona, and you never answered! I tried your apartment, your cell phone. Where were you!"

"In bed. Sleeping . . . Listen, I have to get Benjy ready for school, so I'll-"

"Sharona," her boss interrupted, "Do you know what times it is? The school day's almost over."

Her face scrunched up in confusion. "What are you talking about, Adrian?" she questioned, straining her neck to read the clock in the kitchen. "It's one thirty."

Then, it hit her. "One thirty!" she shrieked, now wide-awake. "Oh, my God! I have a date to plan! R-Reservations to make! I'm going out with Adrian tonight! Damnit! Adrian, I-I can't talk right now, okay? I'll call you later! I . . ."

There was a long pause, followed by hysterical laughter.

"I'm sorry, Adrian," she apologized, sinking onto the couch. "I am _so_ out of it. I was tossing and turning for hours, worrying about tonight. I'm really nervous," she admitted demurely. "I want everything to be perfect."

The detective was radiant. "It will be."

"You know, I've never been so enthusiastic about anything before, let alone a date. I was calling sitters last night. And after two people turned me down, I was getting a little frustrated. So, I told myself: _Sharona, grovel if you have to, 'cause we **are** going out tomorrow._ That being said . . . I'm gonna go start getting ready. I'll see you at six thirty. Oh, and Adrian?"

"Yes?"

"Be sure to put on something sexy," she purred.

Monk quivered at the tone of her voice. "I-I-I will. R-Right after I take a-a cold shower," he stammered, and hung up.

Sharona smiled to herself, quite pleased with his reaction. _Now I know I can turn him on even when I'm not naked_, she thought, returning the receiver to its holder.  
There was much to do in the coming hours. At Adrian's request, she would take care of all the arrangements for the evening.

So far, she had accomplished three tasks: deciding on a time, finding a babysitter for Benjy, and choosing a restaurant. Next on the agenda was making the dinner reservation. However, this proved to be a rather difficult undertaking.

"Look, I don't see what the big deal is!"

Sharona was exasperated. She had been arguing with the host for a solid five minutes.

"Ma'am, I've already gone over this with you. We _do not_ accept reservations," the disgruntled man said through clenched teeth.

"Well, can't you make an exception? Please? This is a very important night for me!"

A deep sigh was heard. "Ma'am, I cannot change our policy for you. And, even if I could, it's a Monday night. Reservations would not even be necessary!"

"Well, there must be something you can do. Look, why don't you, uh . . . take a little Post-It note and write down: Fleming, party of two, seven o'clock. Can you do _that_?"

The host felt as though he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The woman would simply not take no for an answer. "Fine! Done!" he growled, unwilling to lose his job over this ridiculously obstinate customer.

"Thank you very much," Sharona replied in a condescending tone. "Now, just one more thing. Karaoke is tonight, right?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And it won't get canceled at the last minute?"

The host sucked in a huge gulp of air. "_No_, it will _not_ get cancelled."

Sharona decided to stop pestering him. She was going overboard, and she knew it. "All right. That's all," she replied, ending the conversation.

With that taken care of, Sharona could finally nourish her rumbling stomach.

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_What else should we do?_ she pondered, taking a sip of grapefruit juice. _Play miniature golf? That might be fun_. But then, she reconsidered. _He might be lousy at it. What if he can't keep the ball on the course and it goes into those dirty, little pools of water? Guess who'll have to retrieve 'em? Me. Not only that, but I'd probably go through an entire package of wipes in an hour._ She shook her head. _Scrap that idea . . . What about a movie? There's a relatively cheap theater two blocks from the restaurant. I could get him to go for that. Hey, the man crawled into a sewer. I think it's safe to say he can handle a sticky floor._

Setting down her sandwich, she went to retrieve the newspaper from outside the door. "Oh, I've been dying to see this movie!" she remarked as she came upon an advertisement for a romantic film. _And it's rated PG, so Adrian should be okay with it. No nudity or anything like that._ She scanned the page for the times. _Great. We can catch the eight thirty show. This works out fine._

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By the time she finished with her shower, Benjy was home. Her last order of business was telling the boy about her upcoming date. She wondered how her son would react. She hoped he wouldn't laugh. Not that she expected him to, but she seriously doubted that Benjy pictured his mother and her boss as a couple.

"Hi, Mom," he greeted her, dropping his bookbag onto the living room floor. "I see you finally got up."

She smiled at him. "I only slept tiLl one thirty," she said dryly, knotting the ties of her bathrobe.

"Oh, guess what? I don't have any homework tonight."

Two eyebrows arched in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah. I finished it all in study period. That's the first time."

"You're doing so well in school lately! What's gotten into you?"

"I don't know. Maybe I've been hanging around Mr. Monk so long, _I'm_ becoming a genius," he ribbed.

"Uh, speaking of Mr. Monk, there's something I have to tell you," Sharona began, leading the boy over to the couch.

"You didn't quit again, did you?" a displeased Benjy inquired.

"No, nothing like that. In fact, um, I promised him I'd never quit again."

"Really? That's great, Mom. I like Mr. Monk a lot."

_He may actually like the idea of me and Adrian dating_, she realized. _Well, I'll find out soon enough_. Clearing her throat, she straightened her posture and made direct eye contact with the boy. "I'm glad you like Mr. Monk, Benjy. I like him, too . . . In fact, I like him as . . . more than a friend. I like him as a-as a boyfriend. And, uh, I'm going out with him tonight. On a date."

At this news, the boy's eyes lit up and a huge grin spread across his face. "It's about time!" he cried.

The eyebrows rose again. "You're happy about this?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be? I think Mr. Monk's a pretty good catch. I mean, so what if he's a little . . . out there? He's got a lot of good points. He's nice, he cares about you, he'd never hurt you. Well, he won't break your heart or anything," he clarified, remembering his mother's injured wrist. "Plus, he can't live without you, which means he won't try to kill you . . . unlike some other guys you've gone out with," he added with an air of disapproval.

It was Sharona's turn to look dumbfounded. "Wow. I . . . Is this my twelve-year-old kid talking? Looks like you were right, kiddo. You _are_ becoming a genius."

"Nah, I'm no genius, Mom. I'm just telling it like it is. So, what time does this, um, enchanted evening start?"

"Six thirty. But I gotta leave at six."

Benjy glanced at his watch. "Well, what are you sitting around talking for? Go get ready! Go on! Go! Go!" he urged, seizing his mother's arm and pulling her off the couch.

"Benjy, I've got two hours!"

"No, you don't. By the time you pick out something to wear, you'll only have two minutes! Go!"

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"Mom? Are you almost ready?"

No response.

Benjy had been right. Sharona was nowhere near ready and was even farther from almost ready. She still had to put on her make-up. She still had to fix her hair. But she couldn't do either of those things until she decided on an outfit. "He's seen me in all of my clothes," she muttered, tossing another dress onto the bed. "Then again, he's also seen me in _none_ of my clothes."

Meanwhile, in another apartment twenty minutes away, a slightly agitated man sat on his bed, gazing at the photograph of his late wife on the nightstand.

"Hi, Trudy," he addressed his departed spouse, gently lifting the frame. A tender smile tugged at his lips. "I-I have a date tonight . . . with Sharona. I finally told her how I feel. And . . . And she feels the same way." A tear slid down his cheek. "I'm happy, Trudy. I'm very happy. And, uh . . . I don't feel guilty about that."

The detective heaved a sigh, wondering what else to say.

"She told me to, um, to wear something sexy. I don't own anything sexy, so I'm wearing this," he continued, referring to his navy blue suit. "You always liked me in this color. I thought she might, too."

He paused again.

"I'll always love you, Trudy. Nothing will ever change that. I promise," Adrian concluded, kissing the image of his beloved first wife before replacing it on the bedside table.

Back in Sharona's room, Adrian's date was putting the finishing touches on her make-up.

Her son pounded on the door. "Mom, come on! You're gonna be late!"

"I can't leave till the sitter gets here!"

"She _is_ here! I let her in ten minutes ago! Hurry up!"

"Okay, okay. One minute," the jittery blond grumbled, grabbing her lipstick.

"I'm timing you!"

Fifty seconds passed. "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five-"

Before he could go on, the door opened and his mother appeared.

The boy stepped back to admire her. After twenty-three changes of clothes, she had finally settled on a knee-length, cream-colored sundress decorated with tiny violets. She had pulled her hair back on the right side, and a butterfly clip held several blonde ringlets in place.

"You look beautiful, Mom."

"Thanks," she replied as she started down the hall.

As she came into the living room, the nurse encountered a young redhead sitting on her sofa. "Hi, Sharona," the teenager greeted her.

"Hey, Megan. Listen, I'm really sorry this is such short notice."

"Oh, you don't have to apologize. I don't mind at all. I like Benjy."

"Well, I really appreciate this. I'll be home by eleven, eleven thirty at the latest."

Megan nodded. "That's fine."

Sharona then turned to her son. "Be good, huh?" she said, bending down so he could kiss her good-bye.

"I will. Just remember what I said. Mr. Monk's a good catch. Don't let him get away."

His mother laughed and rumpled his hair. "I don't plan to."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own the song lyrics quoted.

_Thanks to Mom and Kim R. for their ideas.  
_  
**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Sharona clicked her pocket mirror shut and shoved it back in her purse. _Well, here goes!_ she thought gleefully as she raised her fist to the white paint.

But the door flew open before she even had the chance to knock.

"You're here!" Adrian cried, all atwitter.

His date emitted a nervous laugh. "Hi, Adrian."

"Come in, come in!" the detective ardently beckoned her inside.

"Happy to see me?"

Though it didn't seem possible, Adrian's smile broadened. "You have no idea," he stated, closing the door behind her. "You look-You look beautiful."

Sharona smiled as well, her cheeks coloring a bit. "That's what Benjy said."

"I like that boy more and more every day."

"So, let me get a look at you."

Monk held his arms out, and Sharona gave him the once over, nodding with approval.

"Not bad, not bad. However, I would like to make one little adjustment," she informed him, moving closer.

"What are you doing, Sharona? I spent so much time on that," Adrian complained as her fingers loosened his perfectly knotted necktie.

"And I appreciate your effort," she responded, flinging the tie onto a nearby table.

Next, she went to work on his shirt, undoing the first three buttons.

When she was finished, she stood back and admired her handiwork. "There. Much better. I like to see a little skin. And if you took_ that_ off, I could see a lot more," she added, gently flicking the fabric of his undershirt.

"I'll be right back," Monk announced, grabbing the discarded tie and fleeing.

"Don't you dare put that back on!" the guest called after him.

Once he had regained his composure, Adrian came back into the foyer.

"These are for you," he told her, handing over two small, round boxes, one pink, one purple. "I wasn't sure if you liked dark chocolate or light chocolate, so I bought one of each."

To express her appreciation, Sharona pecked him on the cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Uh, there's something else. It's in here." Adrian reached into his right breast pocket, and when his fingers reappeared, a thick black piece of string was dangling from them. Through it were seven white, square beads, with the letters of her name spelled out in black paint. And between each letter was a tiny red heart. "Some kids were making them at the candy store," her date explained. "The beads are clean, though. I used a wipe to pick them up."

"I love it, Adrian!" Sharona exclaimed, setting down the candy boxes and extending her hand.

Despite her obvious pleasure, Adrian suddenly felt ashamed at his choice of gift. "No, it's stupid, Sharona. You don't want this," he said, dropping it back into his pocket.

"What are you talking about, Adrian? I said I loved it!"

The detective shook his head in protest. "But it's cheap a-and meaningless. I should've gotten you something better. I'm sorry, Sharona. I-"

But Sharona didn't want to hear anymore of his nonsense. "Adrian, shut-up and put the damn thing on me, okay?" his companion commanded, turning her back to him and sweeping her hair to the side.

Adrian silently complied. When he was through, Sharona faced him again and looked down at the necklace, running her fingers over the beads. "See? That looks great, doesn't it?"

"It doesn't match your dress."

"I can take the dress off," the blonde offered. "Not that you don't already know what's underneath it, but . . ."

Adrian gulped. If he didn't leave the room at once, there would most certainly be a re-enactment of the previous morning's incident. "Uh, uh, there's one last thing," he stammered, dashing out of the room a second time.

When he returned, Monk was carrying another box, only this one was rectangular and much bigger. He presented it to her. "After I wrote that message, I had to throw the rest out. So, this is a replacement."

"Cereal. Wow. This is the best present I've ever gotten. I'm speechless," she giggled.

"That's a first."

"So, are you ready? Or is there more? Milk, perhaps?"

"I'm saving that for the second date," Adrian teased.

"Ooh, a second date. We haven't even started our first. What if it's lousy?"

"It won't be," he declared with confidence. "I have a good feeling about tonight."

"Me, too."

As he held the door open for Sharona, Monk inquired, "Where's your jacket?"

"I didn't bring one. I figured I wouldn't need it . . . since I have you to keep me warm."

"I think I can handle that."

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Sharona fiddled with the dials on the car stereo. "There's this really great show where people call in and dedicate love songs. I haven't listened to it in awhile, though. I don't remember the exact station."

"102.3," Adrian informed her.

Sharona turned to that station. "Yep, that's the one."

"Hi. You're on the air," said the pleasant voice of the female host.

"Um, hi, I'm, um . . . Am I really on the air?"

"Sharona, isn't that . . .?"

"Shh, shh."

"Yes, you are. What's your name, young man?" the woman inquired.

"Benjy."

Sharona was aghast. If Adrian hadn't shouted _red light_, her surprise may have earned her a traffic ticket. Or worse, a car accident.

". . . so, my mom and her boss are on their first date. When she told me about it, I was really happy. Mr. Monk is a little weird, but he's so cool. Oh, wait. I just said his last name. Is that bad?"

"Mr. Monk as in Detective Monk?"

"You know him?"

"I've seen him on the news. He's brilliant. Your mom works for him?"

"Yeah. She used to be his nurse, then she was his assistant, and now, she's his girlfriend. I've wanted them to get together for awhile, but my mom kept quitting all the time, so I didn't think it was gonna happen. But, then again, she always came crawling back. So, I knew there had to be something going on between them."

"Wow. So, what song would you like me to play for them?"

"Uh, I'm not really sure. I don't know much about love songs."

"That's all right. I think I know the perfect song."

While Benjy and the host bid their good-byes, Sharona let out the scoff that she had been saving. "'Came crawling back!'" she cried.

Adrian chuckled. "It's just an expression."

A second later, the DJ's choice of music began wafting through the speakers.

_How do I get through a night without you?  
If I had to live without you,  
What kind of life would that be?  
Oh, I need you in my arms, need you to hold._  
_You're my world, my heart, my soul._  
_If you ever leave, baby, you would take away everything good in my life . . ._

Adrian reached his hand out and began stroking Sharona's arm. His date kept her eyes on the road, hoping he wouldn't notice the tears forming. She smiled to herself, relishing in the sentimentality of the moment. _I think I'll give Benjy that raise in his allowance he's been asking for_, his mother decided.

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The couple stepped up to the podium and were cheerfully greeted by a short, middle-aged man. "Good evening! Two?"

"Yeah. We have a reservation, actually."

The host's smile abruptly disappeared. "Fleming," he stated, making no attempt to hide his disgust. With a steely glare, he ripped a yellow square of paper off the podium's surface and handed it to her. "Your Post-It note, Ma'am. Perhaps you'd like to keep it as a souvenir."

Sharona fought to maintain a sweet disposition. "I would, thank you. That is so thoughtful."

"Follow her," the host commanded, motioning to the woman beside him who was holding two menus.

As Ms. Fleming passed, the man muttered an obscenity under his breath.

Instead of putting him in his place, however, Sharona decided to let it slide. She was determined to not let anything or anybody ruin her evening.

"Why was that man so rude to you?" Adrian wondered, pulling his chair closer to the table.

"Oh. He, um, he asked me out the last time I was here, and I turned him down."

"Ah . . . How long ago were you here? He didn't recognize you right away."

"Nothing gets past you, does it? He's pissed off because I made him give me a reservation," Sharona confessed. "They don't take reservations here, but I was persistent. Now, he's acting like I threw his whole life off course or something. The jerk even called me a bitch."

This last piece of news infuriated Adrian. "He what!"

"Oh, don't worry. I'm gonna call the manager tomorrow and report him. Then he'll really have a reason to hate me," she declared, a diabolical grin spreading onto her shimmering lips. "So, let's just forget about it for now, okay?"

"Okay."

After perusing her menu and deciding on a dish, Sharona set it down and focused her attention on the man across from her. "Let's get acquainted," she suggested.

"But . . . don't we already know each other?"

"Yeah, but pretend like we don't," the blonde replied, smoothing the hemline of her dress. Clearing her throat, she inquired, "So, Adrian, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a detective," Monk played along.

"Oh, yeah?" Sharona feigned fascination. "Small world. I work for – with - a detective.

"Is that so?" Adrian queried, folding his hands atop the tablecloth. "Is he . . . any good?"

"The best."

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"We both want the veal," Sharona told the waiter. "And, uh, we want all the side dishes on the side."

"On separate plates," Monk interjected, for the sake of clarity.

The pair looked up at their server expectantly, anticipating the dirty look. But instead they received a polite smile. "That's exactly how I order my food."

"I like him," Adrian declared when the man had walked away. "But you didn't have to do that for me."

"Yes, I did. I wanna get accustomed to your world."

Her date chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know how to respond to that. I think I'll just, um, change the subject. So . . . how's your wrist?"

"_Much_ better. It only hurt when I took the splint off in the shower. You know what that means, don't you?"

"What?"

"That you were on my mind all day. Remember how I said yesterday that it doesn't hurt when I think of you?"

"Yeah," he replied, beaming.

"Well, you're very therapeutic."

Their conversation was cut short by someone's energetic shout of _woohoo_! Onstage, next to a television set, stood a bubbly young woman. "Hey, everyone! For those of you who don't know me, I'm Karen, the queen of Karaoke! Yeah! Now, I know you're all ready to have a good time, so let's get started!"

The queen of Karaoke held up a black binder. "In here is a list of all the songs we have. Who wants it first?"

Sharona's arm shot up.

"All right! We have a taker!" Bouncing over to their table, Karen handed the binder to the customer. "When you find a song you like, just come right up onstage and let me know! Okay?"

"Okay! Thanks!"

Adrian's companion began rifling through the book, a song already in mind. "You asked for it, Adrian. I'm gonna sing. Just for you," she informed him, responding to his inevitable question. "Yes! They have it!" Without any trepidation, Sharona bolted from her chair and rushed onto the stage.

"Whoa! You're fast!" the vivacious young woman exclaimed. Leaning in, Sharona whispered the title of the song. "Great choice!" Moments later, the television monitor was set to go. "Just let me know when you're ready."

Adrian's date stepped up to the microphone and adjusted it to her height. As she scanned the crowd, she suddenly felt a pang of nervousness. But she was determined to go through with it. "Um, I-I'd like to dedicate this song to someone very special. He's sitting right over there." Sharona extended her left index finger to the man she had left alone at their table. All eyes were soon on the detective, who smiled awkwardly and gave a little wave.

The timid blond smiled, waiting for the patrons to turn their attention back to her. When they did, she nodded to the young woman, and the title of the song flashed on the monitor.

Taking a deep breath, Sharona silently prayed that her debut performance would run smoothly.

_Late at night when all the world is sleeping,  
I stay up and think of you.  
And I wish on a star that somewhere you are _

_Thinking of me, too.  
'Cause I'm dreaming of you tonight,  
Till tomorrow, I'll be holding you tight.  
And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be  
Than here in my room, dreaming about you and me . . ._

The world around Adrian Monk seemed to vanish as he stared at Sharona, listening intently. He was absolutely mesmerized. Benjy had said that his mother had a great voice. In Mr. Monk's opinion, though, that was the understatement of the century.

Not long after she started singing, the butterflies flew out of her stomach. She was afraid they would return if she looked at Adrian, so she focused entirely on the monitor in front of her.

But halfway through the song, she at last tore her eyes from the blue screen and met Adrian's gaze. To her surprise, she didn't falter. Instead, she simply found herself pouring more emotion into the song.

_Late at night when all the world is sleeping,  
I stay up and think of you.  
And I still can't believe that you came up to me  
And said: 'I love you'.  
I love you, too.  
Now I'm dreaming with you tonight,  
Till tomorrow, and for all of my life.  
And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be  
Than here in my room, dreaming with you endlessly . . ._

As the final notes floated through the air, every single person in the restaurant, with the exception of Adrian, who was still in a trance, jumped to his or her feet. A thunderous round of applause rewarded the talented songstress.

"Take a bow!" someone yelled.

Sharona did what was requested of her, then quickly ran off the stage and back to her table. This didn't stop the applause, however, nor the repeated demands for an encore.

Thrilled, but nevertheless very embarrassed, the beet-red blonde buried her face in her hands and waited for the cheering to die down.

When it did at last, she raised her head to find the detective still turned toward the stage, his eyes as large as saucers. "Adrian? Adrian, I'm over here." She clapped her hands. "Hello? Adrian?" This strategy proved fruitless, so she decided to attempt a different tactic. Standing, she moved behind him and dipped her fingers into his water glass, extracting an ice cube. She then slipped her hand beneath his collar and dropped the cold square down her date's back. _If this doesn't snap him out of it, nothing will._

Fortunately, the ice did the trick. With a yelp, Adrian flew out of his chair and began wriggling around.

As much as she didn't want it to, laughter erupted from Sharona's throat, and she quickly covered her mouth.

All eyes were again on Adrian, only this time they were accompanied by raised brows.

He never did succeed in ousting the ice cube; it melted before he could accomplish the arduous task. Adrian did, however, manage to calm down, but not without Sharona's assistance.

"Are you okay?" she asked, staving off the last remaining giggles.

"I-I-I think so. I'm just a little cold."

"You should be. I dropped an ice cube down your back," she explained, passing him a napkin.

"Why?"

"Because I couldn't get your attention! It's like you were in another world. You must have been on Planet Monk."  
**  
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"I hope the floors aren't too sticky," Adrian remarked as he got out of the vehicle.

His date smiled and offered her hand. "I see you're back to your old self."

Walking up to the ticket booth, Sharona was surprised when the male half of the duo pulled out his wallet and paid for not only his ticket, but for hers as well. He had already picked up the bill for dinner; she hadn't expected him to pay for anything else.

Even more shocking was that Adrian forked over the two dollars and fifty cents necessary to purchase a bag of gummy bears.

"You have to eat some of these," Sharona insisted as they entered theater number four.

"That's what you think," he teased.

"Oh, hey, look! It's like a love seat!" In the last row were two single seats fused together, with no armrest dividing them.

The pair settled into their seats, Adrian with his arm around his date, hugging her close.

"Ooh. Nice and cozy," she commented, tearing her package of candy open. She dislodged a squishy green bear from a clump and held it up to Adrian's mouth. "Here."

Making a disgusted face, the detective shook his head, keeping his mouth closed.

Sharona waved the bear in front of him. "Come on! They're good!"

"Then you eat them. You can have them all."

The lights went down then, and Adrian, without thinking, breathed a sigh of relief. The instant he did so, the bear and Sharona's fingers were inside his mouth.

"Eat it!" the woman at his side demanded, giggling. "Or I'll never sing for you again!"

He was trapped. Reluctantly, and with an even greater expression of repulsion, he sucked the bear out from between her thumb and forefinger and coaxed it down his esophagus.

"Good, huh?"

Gradually, Monk's grimace transformed into a smile. "Not bad."

"What's not bad, the bear or my fingers?"

"Both."

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Two hours and one empty bag of gummy bears later, the cuddling couple rose from their seats.

"That was a really good movie," Sharona stated, dropping the package into the trash.

"Yeah, except for that one scene."

"Which scene?"

"When the gardener was trimming the grass. At least ten blades were longer than the rest."

"God, Adrian. Well, I guess we won't be seeing that film again. So, what now? Want to, uh, go for a romantic walk on the beach?"

"Sure, I'd like that."

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At some point during their moonlight stroll, the couple stopped to gaze at the twinkling dots scattered across the navy blue sky.

"You know what's been bothering me?" Sharona spoke up. "That thing you said to me the other day."

"What thing?"

"'I feel okay when you're around'. You've said that before, but for the life of me, I can't remember when."

"You were on a date with Carl, and I interrupted you," Adrian recalled, as if this had taken place the previous day. "You said: 'Two's company, three's a crowd. Monk hates crowds, don't you?' And, I said-"

"'I feel okay when you're around,'" she completed his sentence. "Damn. You never forget anything. Oh, my God. Isn't that what I said right after?"

Adrian nodded. He decided against bringing up the fact that that was one of many nights she had quit on him. Instead, he said nothing as he stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling his nose in her soft hair.

Giggling, Sharona turned to look at him, but something stole away her attention. "Oh, my God! A shooting star! I get to make a wish!"

"A shooting star isn't a star," the detective informed his date. "It's actually a meteor."

"Doesn't mean I can't still make a wish, does it?" the blonde scoffed. Lowering her lids, she placed her hands over his, a surge of happiness rushing through her. But Sharona's joy was put on hold when she realized how late it was. "Damn it. Adrian, we have to go."

Regretfully, he released her. "Is the date over?"

"No, not yet," she assured her companion. To herself, Sharona added, _Not until I get my wish._

**IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII**

Without warning, Adrian reached down and gathered Sharona into his arms, just like he had done two days earlier. He carried her up the walk, setting her down when they reached the stoop of his apartment building.

"So, um, I guess this is good-night," he supposed, clearly disheartened.

Sharona stepped forward. "What? That's all I get? Just 'good night'?" she pouted.

"Well, what kind of man do you think I am, Sharona?" Monk chaffed. "After all, it _is_ only the first date. I wouldn't want to give you the wrong idea about me."

"I already know what kind of man you are," the blonde replied, her gaze focused on his mouth. "What I don't know is what kind of kisser you are."

Slanting her head sideways, Sharona closed her eyes and lightly pressed her lips to his. When she sensed him relaxing as opposed to tensing up, she deepened the kiss.

The sensation Monk obtained was remarkable, a feeling he had been deprived of for too long. Closing his own eyes, he cupped her face in his hands and intensified their embrace.

After what seemed like an eternity, the lip-locked pair broke apart, both gasping for air.

"Do-Do you-Do you want to . . . come up? Um, out? Do you want to come out - uh, go out? Do you want to _go out_ with me . . . tomorrow?"

"Nice save," Sharona quipped, sliding her fingers between his. She could tell that he felt a little ashamed at what he had implied. "I accept both offers, but I think we'd better take a rain check on the first one. Even if I could stay, I really don't think we're ready for that yet."

"You're right," her date agreed.

"Oh, I got my wish."

"What was it?"

"That you would kiss me. On the lips."

Adrian brushed a curl out of her eyes. "So, what's the verdict? What kind of kisser am I?" he asked, confident that her answer would please him.

"Hmm. Well, my answer to that question is exactly the same as my answer to your other question, about what kind of man I think you are."

"And that answer would be?"

"That answer would be . . . incredible. You're incredible, Adrian. Absolutely incredible."

"You know, I made a wish, too," he informed her, drawing Sharona closer.

"Yeah? What for?"

"Us. For us to always be together."

An elated smile illuminated Sharona's face. "I think that can be arranged."

**End.**

_"That's What Friends are For" written by Carole Bayer Sager and Burt Bacharach _

"How Do I Live" written by Diane Warren

"Dreaming of You" written by Franne Golde and Tom Snow


End file.
